


A War Story

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (nothing graphic but just in case!!), Alternate Universe, Angst, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, MCD is ~kinda~ not MCD like it's a reincarnation fic what do u want from me, Mentions of attempted suicide, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Reincarnation, Road Trips, Violence not super graphic but just in case, i guess?, maybe slightly ooc peggy???, witch!Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7502346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, Bucky was cursed to watch his lover die over and over, covering a span of hundreds of years. He has seen wars, kings, and friends come and go. Monarchies have collapsed, countries have rewritten themselves, but the one thing constant in his life has been the blond, blue eyed man. </p><p>This time, this incarnation, something is different, and Bucky needs to find some way to break his curse, before ultimately, it breaks him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Story of Days Gone Past

**Author's Note:**

> yoooooo okay! here it is! this has been my madness for the past few months, and i'm excited to finally start posting it. i'll be doing one chapter a week until all 7 are done, always posted on a saturday. (well - like 1-2am sunday morning for me.) tags will be added as story progresses to avoid spoilers (lol).
> 
> huge shoutout to my betas [kat](http://sidleupandsmile.tumblr.com) and [chloë](http://technotrousers.tumblr.com), and [retaltyp](http://retaltyp.tumblr.com) and [dadbob](http://dadbob.tumblr.com) for doing the art for this, all of which can be found [here](http://jjjakesully.tumblr.com/tagged/aws).

The rain was heavy, thundering down on the roof of thatched leaves and branches above them. The ground beneath them was damp, littered in the meagre belongings they could carry in their packs, mostly opened and emptied tins from their C-rations.

Dugan and Morita were off to their side of the hooch, leaving Bucky to sit with Ben, the tiny, blond boy with more medical issues than hairs on his head. Bucky cursed the draft every day for bringing this kid here, but then again, he kinda didn’t.

He glanced to his friend out the corner of his eye, taking in the relaxed way he was sitting, looking out to the trees and other field bunkers around them. It was quiet, too quiet, which Bucky both loved and hated about this place. If it was quiet, either no one was around, or _someone_ was around, and you were about to get shot.

Not like it made any difference to _him_. He could get shot, or pull a trip wire and get hit in the leg by a bow trap, or lashed across the chest by a bamboo whip, and he would still come out the other side singing. Unless stupid, _stupid_ Ben flung himself in front of Bucky and took the brunt of it. _Ben_ would die. The whip would rip him apart like a piece of paper.

Bucky, however. Bucky would not die. He’d watch Ben die, of course he would. He’d been doing it this long, it was just a matter of time before he saw it happen again. Their days here were limited, and it would be too good to be true if Ben lived through this, and _this_ was the lifetime that he survived.

‘I missed the rain,’ Ben murmured, allowing himself to lean against Bucky.

‘Me too,’ Bucky replied quietly. ‘But give it a few hours, and we’ll be swimming.’

‘You can swim, I’ll sit on you like a raft,’ Ben chuckled. ‘Bucky?’

‘Mm?’ _Oh God, it was going to happen._ Ben wouldn’t live out the week if he said it now.

‘I…’ Ben faltered. ‘Do you like me?’

‘Of course,’ Bucky said slowly. _Please don’t say it._ ‘You’re my best friend here.’

‘I mean…’ Ben’s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the relentless downpour hammering on their roof. ‘Do you _like_ me?’

‘Ben…’ Bucky sighed. _Shit._ ‘You know I do.’

‘Do you…’ Ben bit his lip and looked up at Bucky, searching his eyes for something. ‘Do you _more_ than like me?’

It was Thursday. If Bucky said it now, there was no way he’d make it to next Monday. ‘Yeah. More than that, even.’

The answer brought a smile to Ben’s face, splitting it into a wide grin. He was careful to maintain his low volume as he said, ‘You love me?’

_Goodbye, Ben. It was nice knowing you._ ‘I do.’

Ben knocked his knee into Bucky’s and pressed his lips briefly to Bucky’s sweat and mud stained shoulder. ‘Me too.’

They stayed like that for a while, Bucky knowing what was to come, and going back through every other time this had happened to them. How had he coped last time? Drunk himself into a stupor, probably, passed out under the stars, cursing them for everything that had happened to him, that had happened to _Ben_ , and the hundred other versions of him that Bucky had met and fallen in love with, over and over again.

After almost an hour of wasting precious time to sleep, Bucky nudged Ben gently towards his side of the hooch, right next to the wall that leaned against a large rock outside, and told him to get some sleep.

As they had taken to doing, Bucky held Ben’s hands, running his thumb over Ben’s knuckles until he fell asleep, short, shallow breaths moving his chest. Bucky wouldn’t sleep much, never did when it reached this point, so he didn’t bother trying to force it, and instead refreshed the memories of his lover ingrained in his mind.

The way Ben’s breathing stuttered occasionally as he took a breath too shallow, how his eyes clenched further shut, or moved rapidly, fluttering behind his eyelids when he dreamt. The way his hair shone golden in the daylight, as if he wore a halo made of the sun’s rays, and how beautifully blue his eyes were. God, his eyes were like the ocean – Bucky would never get bored looking into them.

Ben had caught him, more than once, just gazing into his eyes. He had quirked up one corner of his mouth into a small, lopsided smile, and said, _“Is there something on my face?”_

Bucky had smiled back, brushed a tiny lock of hair from his face, and let his hand linger a moment on Ben’s cheek. _“Yeah,”_ Bucky replied. _“Stupid.”_

Ben laughed at that, Bucky remembered, and leaned his face into Bucky’s palm. _“Look who’s talking.”_

Bucky would miss Ben when went. He always did, and it never hurt any less to watch him die.

As the sun began to rise, and other members of Bucky’s camp began to wake up, he slowly withdrew his hands from Ben’s, ignoring the twin knowing looks given to him by Dugan and Morita.

‘Don’t you fuckin’ dare,’ he muttered, pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking out to the surrounding huts, seeing other guys emerge before their CO started yelling at them to get the hell up.

‘We moving out?’ Ben mumbled, blinking his eyes open wearily.

‘Not yet, but soon,’ Bucky confirmed. ‘Time to get up if you wanna eat before we start off through this hellhole again.’

‘Mm, okay,’ Ben yawned, stretching along the ground, his hands and feet inches from making contact with the walls at either end. ‘Another glorious day, huh? What do we think’s gonna happen?’

‘Think Sweet’s gonna shit himself again,’ Dugan said lightly. ‘But I’m not gonna be standin’ behind him this time when it happens.’

‘You weren’t the one behind him last time, _I_ was,’ Morita reminded him.

‘Yeah, and that was bad enough,’ Dugan shrugged. ‘You were like a girl faintin’ at the sight of blood.’

Bucky laughed and started getting all his stuff back into his pack. ‘You think Sweet’s had the chance to wash since then? Don’t want him givin’ away our position.’

‘So if he does, Morita might get to see _real_ blood today?’

‘I’ve seen real blood, asshole,’ Morita shook his head as he crammed a few things into his own pack. ‘Do you _know_ where you are right now?’

‘You guys need to think positive,’ Ben said, happily cramming his helmet on his head. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and no one is going to die.’

‘You think no one’s gonna die today?’ Dugan grinned. ‘I’ll take that bet.’

‘It’s not a bet, we’re going through the middle of nowhere. No one’s gonna die, because there’ll be no one around to kill us.’

‘We’re in the middle of nowhere, which means someone else is probably here as well,’ Bucky shrugged. ‘At the least, the area’s got some booby traps.’

‘You’re so negative, Buck,’ Ben rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly at him.

‘Alright, lovebirds, time to fly the nest,’ Dugan yawned and left the bunker, pulling his pack out behind him.

‘If someone dies today, I’m killing you,’ Morita said, nodding at Ben.

‘I’ll kill _you_ if you kill him,’ Bucky replied, closing his pack and taking his helmet from Ben.

Morita rolled his eyes and left the hut to join Dugan, leaving Ben and Bucky by themselves.

‘Today is gonna be a good day,’ Ben said. ‘I can feel it.’

‘No offence, but I don’t trust your feelings after the time you said it was safe to take a shortcut and I ended up getting the EOD over to disarm that Betty you stepped on,’ Bucky raised an eyebrow pointedly.

‘Not one of my better moments,’ Ben agreed. ‘Woulda been off to see my Ma quicker than she woulda liked.’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky put his hand gently on the back of Ben’s neck and tugged him forward to press his lips to his forehead. ‘So try to stay alive, okay?’

Ben smiled and moved to look up to Bucky, glancing outside before he kissed him quickly and said, ‘Okay.’

‘Good,’ Bucky murmured. ‘We should –’

‘I hate to interrupt,’ Dugan grinned, popping his head back into the bunker. ‘But we’re leaving.’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘Fuck.’

‘Yep,’ Dugan sighed and looked around the dense jungle surrounding them, as Ben and Bucky climbed from the hooch. ‘Another glorious day in country.’

‘I can barely contain myself,’ Bucky said drily.

‘Like Sweet?’

‘He’s off already?’ Morita piped up, adjusting his helmet and squinting at the rising sun.

‘You’d love that, huh?’

‘I guess you could say I wouldn’t be able to contain myself.’

Ben and Bucky snickered, heading off with the rest of their unit towards… somewhere. They weren’t exactly sure where, because they never really paid as much attention as they should, deciding just to practice due diligence and have their guns at the ready – though it was generally agreed they’d be fucking idiots if they _didn’t_ in this place.

Looking back, Bucky wasn’t really surprised things went the way they did.

One moment, he and Ben were walking along the trail, following the few men in front of them, and the next, everything had gone into slow motion, his hearing had failed, and Ben was on the ground.

Everything was red.

Someone was screaming, and Bucky wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up or they’d be ambushed, but it was him making the noise.

Others – Dum Dum, Morita, even _Sweet_ – ran up, paying no mind to the very real possibility that there would be other traps, and pulled Bucky back. A large hand was clamped over his mouth, as Sweet set about assessing the damage to Ben’s chest, but _fuck_.

‘I can’t – I can’t do anything,’ Sweet stammered, looking apologetically to Bucky. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’

‘There has to be something!’ Bucky screeched, having pushed Dum Dum’s hand off his face. ‘You have to save him!’

‘He c-c-can’t,’ Ben gasped, red bubbling from his mouth, the gaping wounds across his chest from the _motherfucking_ bamboo whip. ‘I’m as g-good as dead, Buck.’

‘Ben, no,’ Bucky collapsed onto his knees beside him, holding his thin hand, threading their fingers together. Fuck it. Ben was dying, he didn’t give a shit if their unit knew how they felt. ‘You can’t leave me in this hellhole.’

‘Buck,’ Ben sounded so ridiculously at peace, like he didn’t give two shits he was off to send Bucky a postcard from the pearly gates. ‘It’s okay, you’ll be okay.’

‘You can’t, you –’ a sob. ‘You – I’ll fuckin’ _kill_ you, punk.’

Ben laughed gently. ‘You love me too much to do that.’

‘I love you too much to let you fuckin’ _die_!’

Ben sighed and relaxed into the grasses. ‘Take my tags, Buck.’

‘What?’

‘My tags.’

‘No,’ Bucky wiped harshly at the tears clouding his vision. ‘You’re gonna get through this.’

‘Bucky,’ Ben sighed again, coughed up more blood. ‘Sing?’

‘Sing what?’

‘My song.’

‘Now ain’t the time for singin’!’

‘Please.’

Bucky’s lower lip trembled, but Ben fixed him with the _stubborn motherfucker_ glare, and he indulged his dying lover anyway. _‘When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see. No, I won’t be afraid, oh I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.’_

Ben let a smile grace his face, as his grip on Bucky’s hand loosened steadily, like the ceaseless flow from his chest. ‘Buck?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Take my tags?’

Bucky bit his tongue and nodded, pushing the bloody, matted hair from Ben’s forehead, placing a gentle kiss there. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay,’ Ben looked up to the sky, his eyes glazing over a little. ‘It’s a nice day today.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Bucky agreed quietly. ‘Want me to keep singin’?’

‘Yeah.’

Bucky took a shaky breath, finding his place in the lyrics before he continued, his eyes staying fixed on Ben. _‘If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall, or the mountains should crumble to the sea…’_

Ben’s grip went slack, his eyes lifeless, unfocused, but still staring through the branches overhead to the bright blue sky.

_‘I won’t cry, I won’t cry,’_ Dugan had apparently taken over the mantle as Ben’s deathbed singer, and was crouched beside Bucky, a heavy hand on his shoulder, and singing lowly, while Morita removed Ben’s tags and placed them gently in Bucky’s empty hand. _‘No, I won’t shed a tear just as long as you stand, stand by me...’_

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke up screaming. His chest tight, breathing harsh and strained, water on his cheeks. He threw the blankets off himself and swung his legs over the side of his bed, leaning over and hanging his head between his knees, trying to centre himself.

_Stop._

_Stop._

_It’s done. It’s over. Ben is gone._

The thoughts were not comforting, and Bucky just had more difficulty calming himself, or at least getting to the point where he would be able to form a coherent thought and/or get enough oxygen into his brain to realise that was a memory from almost fifty years ago.

The fuck was the time?

Bucky snapped his head towards the alarm clock on the table beside his bed, casting a dim yellow light across his crumpled sheets. _3:58._ Why the fuck couldn’t his fucking brain choose a later time to torment him?

Oh right. His brain _didn’t give a shit._ Talk about letting the whole team down, Jesus.

_Breathe. In and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In and out._

Bucky’s hands were shaking as he clasped them together, trying to anchor himself to something. Doesn’t exactly work too fucking well when it’s your own damn hand.

_It’s okay, it was a dream, you’re okay, you’re not dying._

Wasn’t he though?

Bucky was a complete fucking masochist when it came to shit like this. No doubt later in the day, he’d dig up that carved wood box, the one with the mother of pearl inlays, and he’d find Ben’s Vietnam dog tags. He’d wind the chain around his hand and curl it into a fist.

_Fifty years._

He was due for another Ben around now. Then again, the longest time between incarnations had been almost ninety years. That had been… only the third or fourth time. Back when Bucky still thought he was losing his mind with grief and hallucinating.

God, how he wished he was.

By the time Bucky had slowed his breathing, stopped crying, and managed to get the tremor under control, it was nearing 4:25 on his clock. He wanted to get a few more hours sleep in, at least, but first he walked to his bathroom and drank a glass of water, wiped his face with a damp, warm cloth, and repeated his mantra in the mirror.

‘I am here, I am okay. The past can’t hurt me.’

Bucky’s reflection remained unconvinced.

He pushed his hand through his hair, idly rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way back to bed. He would do his best to get a bit more sleep, but knew that it would end up being a complete waste of time. Bucky never got back to sleep after a dream like this.

So he just stayed in bed until it was a more suitable hour to get up and go for a run, meaning he only had to be entirely consumed by his thoughts for another hour before he deemed it appropriate to get up.

The second his clock started blinking _5:30_ , Bucky was out of bed, pulling his hair back into a loose bun, and pulling on some clean running gear. He was out the door at 5:35, with only his keys zipped safely into his pocket.

He ran through the streets towards the park near his apartment, taking in the city as it started waking up. The park seemed to be empty, save for the few ducks in the pond at the park’s centre.

Bucky started on his usual route around the park, running through the tree lined paths, turning left at the weird rock, and circling back, going right at the bush he was pretty sure people fucked in during the day. He was used to seeing no one at this hour, but as he started his second lap, someone else started heading towards him.

As Bucky and the other jogger got closer, his heart started racing, and it wasn’t due to the physical activity he was currently engaged in. Bucky knew this feeling. Bucky had come to hate this feeling. It was like an automatic response whenever…

_Ben._

Bucky could make him out now, but it wasn’t Ben. Maybe. This guy bore a remarkable resemblance to him, but he was… _bigger_. Pecs the size of Bucky’s head strained the guy’s grey shirt, and _shit_ , he was just as huge everywhere else.

His face, though. He had the same face as Ben.

It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before – Bens had come in different shapes and sizes before – but, fuck, Bucky could appreciate the aesthetics of this one. He couldn’t wait until the day he would put his mouth on this guy’s –

_No._

No. Not again. Bucky wouldn’t do it again. He didn’t think he’d survive another one.

And all these thoughts ran through Bucky’s head in the two seconds it took for not-Ben to be in clear sight and speaking distance.

A smile lit up not-Ben’s face, as he nodded at Bucky. ‘Morning!’

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault for what happened next, not really, because he freaked the fuck out, might have squeaked slightly, turned towards the other space of grass, and started sprinting across it like he was being chased by a swarm of bees.

Bucky didn’t want to see the destruction he was wreaking on the lightly frosted grass as he ran as fast as he fucking could away from not-Ben. He didn’t even care if not-Ben thought he was weird, he just needed to get away, one thought repeating in his mind.

_Not again. Not again. Not again._

 

* * *

 

Steve had come to be quite familiar with nerves.

He felt them before going out, as he laced his boots and strapped his helmet on. He felt them whenever he was called in to talk to someone, whether he was doing the talking, or someone higher in rank was. He felt nerves when he got told he was going home in three weeks. He had felt them every day since, and he was feeling them as his plane landed on the tarmac and he picked up his army issue pack from luggage and went to find his mom.

Those might’ve been the worst kind of nerves. Steve fucking (excuse his French) _hated_ airports. He had always thought there were too many people in them, but now, it was just downright shit to be in one. He hated too many people in one place, he hated _no_ people in one place. That meant danger.

Sarah Rogers was standing under the arrivals board, as she had told Steve she would be, and he was so glad to see her, he temporarily forgot about the pulsing collection of bodies around him, and swiftly made his way to her.

‘Hi, Mom,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face to her shoulder, even though it was, actually, quite far down for him to reach. Sarah Rogers was still surprised at how she had managed to have a son _quite_ so tall.

‘Hey, Stevie,’ she murmured, kissing his cheek and stroking his back. She held him for a moment longer before she let go and grinned at him. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’

‘Me too, Mom.’

‘Was your flight okay?’

‘I’ve had worse,’ Steve shrugged. ‘Good to be back on solid ground, for now.’

‘I’ll bet,’ Sarah smiled. ‘Time to go home?’

Steve nodded gratefully and hauled his bag onto his shoulder, following his mother to the exit and out to get a taxi to her apartment. Steve didn’t have anywhere to live just yet, nor did he have a job, and his mom had offered to let him stay in his old room, as long as he helped with the cooking and cleaning.

They were pretty quiet on the way home. Steve sort of zoned out and watched the buildings pass, while Sarah made idle conversation with the chatty cab driver. It felt like it took a lot longer to get to Sarah’s house than it actually did, and once they were there, Steve was out almost immediately. He couldn’t identify why he wanted to be in the apartment so bad, but it was either because he wanted to take a nap, he missed his mom’s house, or he felt too exposed in the open.

This was his turf, and he felt vulnerable here? That was not something Steve had been expecting.

‘C’mon,’ Sarah said, patting Steve gently on the arm. ‘Get your bag and we’ll get inside.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve said softly, flicking his eyes around as he pulled his bag from the boot of the taxi.

Sarah led the way inside, waiting for Steve to finish reflexively scanning the entryway for hostiles. As they climbed the stairs up to the second floor, Sarah said, ‘I went down to the local VA a few days ago.’

‘Oh?’ Steve replied, resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet as his mom unlocked her front door. ‘How was it?’

‘I got a few pamphlets for you about dealing with things and the kind of services that they provide. Figured you might want to talk to someone who understands.’

‘I’m okay just talking to you, Mom,’ Steve said, diving inside her apartment as soon as the door was open.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and followed her son in, closing the door and sliding the lock across. She thought it might give Steve some peace of mind, and sure enough, he visibly relaxed and sunk into her couch. ‘Honey, you and I both know you won’t talk to me like you need. You’ll just gloss over it, you always have.’

‘Mom, I’m okay, really. If anything’s bothering me, I’ll tell you.’

‘Maybe, but I got the pamphlets just in case. There are some lovely social workers you can talk to. The young man who showed me around was very nice, and he said he would be more than happy to talk to you outside the VA if that was more comfortable for you.’

‘Mom, I don’t –’

‘I know you don’t need to talk to anyone, but just in case you feel like you want to, or you want to meet people,’ Sarah sighed and came over, smoothing her hand across Steve’s hair. ‘I know you, you’ll go out of your mind cooped up in here all day with only me to talk to.’

‘I’ll be okay,’ Steve said, leaning his head into his mom’s hand. ‘I’ve been through worse things than being at my mom’s house with boatloads of her chicken soup.’

‘I know. Now the only bad thing that can happen to you is Mrs Frederickson’s shortbread.’

‘She’s still making that?’

‘Mhmm, like little rocks,’ Sarah said gravely. ‘We’ll never be free of the shortbread.’

Steve snorted and stood from the couch. ‘I should go unpack.’

‘Okay, Stevie. You know where everything is, so you can take a nap, or a shower if you want.’

‘Thanks, mom.’

‘I’m making a chicken for dinner, though, so you best not nap for too long.’

‘Chicken?’ Steve perked up. ‘With roast potatoes?’

‘Yep, and that horrible gravy you always liked,’ Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘And I’ve got a cheesecake for dessert if you want it.’

Steve practically sobbed as he hugged his mother tightly. ‘You’re the best.’

‘Uh huh,’ she called, as he went off to his room. ‘And don’t you forget it!’

‘I promise!’ Steve replied, giving her a thumbs up as he turned into his bedroom. It hadn’t changed much since he’d left. The walls were still covered in posters of bands and sporting teams he didn’t really care about anymore, his small bookshelf was still stuffed to the brim with cheap paperbacks, and his old sketchbooks were still neatly stacked on one side of his desk.

One thing had, however, changed, and that was his bed. His mom must’ve bought a new one for him, because the tiny single bed had been replaced with a double (or was it a queen?) that left a comfortable gap between it and the desk, big enough for him to wheel his chair around in. His mom had also cleared out the smaller sized clothes from his drawers, leaving a few things he might be able to fit still, and giving enough space for him to put some new stuff in.

Once he’d bought it, of course. But that meant leaving the apartment, and for now, that wasn’t going to happen.

So Steve just collapsed onto his bed and made a mental list of things to do.

_One: take the crap off his walls. Maybe repaint, Mom permitting._

_Two, part A: go through the clothes left in his room and see what he would – rather,_ could _– wear._

_Two, part B: potentially buy new clothes, pending further investigation of clothes already in his possession._

_Three: figure out exercise regime. Perhaps order weights online, perhaps find a place he could go for runs._

_Four: check out the VA, self-preservation instincts permitting._

_Edit: read VA pamphlets first to make Mom happy,_ then _check out VA if warranted._

_Edit: definitely repaint, Mom permitting._ Steve could see chips in the paint of his ceiling from where he had (probably) thrown things as a child. Or as a smaller person, whatever. For now, Steve would keep his immediate list of tasks short.

Shower first, to get rid of airplane smell and generally feel like a normal human again, and then a nap. Naps, he had been told once, were good for the soul. Steve tended to agree with that statement.

 

* * *

 

Steve spent all of his first week back at home. He crossed things off his mental _to-do_ list, one by one, taking all his posters down and temporarily putting up a few of the better pictures he found in his old sketchbooks. He weeded out the too-small clothes left in his drawers, and organised them for his mom to drop in to a charity shop or whatever, ordered a few generic shirts and hoodies from the internet, and looked into gyms in his area.

He also read the VA pamphlets his mom had got, and found a number scribbled on the back of one, which must’ve been for the guy his mom had talked to. But he didn’t need that number, he didn’t. Really. It was perfectly fine for him to want to stay home for a few days after being overseas the past couple of years.

It _probably_ meant he wasn’t perfectly fine if he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, like he had just been wearing his heavy gear. It _probably_ meant he wasn’t perfectly fine if he woke up screaming twice in the first five days he was home. Probably. Steve felt fine, honest.

But he was glad his mom had the night shift at work this week, because she would be telling him to call that number.

The first day that she was home with Steve during the night, making dinner in the kitchen, she glanced out to where he was sitting watching the TV. ‘Have you been outside this week?’

Steve turned and blinked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, as much as I’m sure you’re enjoying seeing the same four rooms every day, have you had any fresh air?’

‘I opened the window the other day.’

‘Steve.’

‘No, I haven’t been outside. I don’t want to.’

Sarah sighed and put her hands on her hips. ‘Have you called that number for the guy from the VA?’

‘Why would I? I’m totally fine.’

‘Honestly, Steve, it’s an admirable trait sometimes, but you are a terrible liar.’ Sarah turned back to the stove and stirred the pot of pasta she had going. ‘I think if you asked him to, he’d probably come here to talk to you. He seemed like the kinda guy who would do that.’

‘If you like him so much, then _you_ should call him,’ Steve muttered, curling in on himself. ‘I’m okay as I am.’

‘Right. If you say so.’ Sarah was quiet for a few minutes, and Steve thought she had nothing left to say, but then she continued right on. ‘I know you’ve got to be experiencing some kind of… anxiety or something, Steve. If you won’t even talk to _me_ , then I can’t help you. I just want you to be okay.’

‘I _am –_ ’

‘Steve.’

‘Mom.’

‘Just call him, okay? Even if you are completely fine.’

‘Will you get off my back if I do?’

‘Yes, and you are a grown man, now, not a sixteen year old I’m nagging about homework. Don’t use phrases like that to me,’ Sarah pointed her spoon at him, ‘because I may be half your height, but I can still kick your ass.’

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. ‘Yes, Mom.’

‘Thank you. You know I’m only concerned about you, right?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Steve sighed. ‘I’ll call him tomorrow.’

 

* * *

 

**_Steve:_ ** _hi uh my mom got me this number from a dude at the VA so im hoping ur the right dude..?_

**_[Unknown]:_ ** _i am a dude from the VA, but am i THE dude from the VA?_

**_[Unknown]:_ ** _also who is ur mom i might remember her_

**_Steve:_ ** _idk she said the VA dude she talked to was very nice???_

**_Steve:_ ** _she’s tiny and blond and has a bit of an accent. gives off the “i'll kick ur ass don’t think i won’t” sorta vibe. name's sarah? sarah rogers?_

**_[Unknown]:_ ** _sarah! i remember her! ur her son, the captain, right??_

**_Steve:_ ** _yeah my name is steve._

**_[Unknown]:_ ** _steve, my name is sam wilson. it’s nice to meet u._

**_Sam:_ ** _how can i help?_

**_Steve:_ ** _my mom just wanted me to talk to someone_

**_Sam:_ ** _are u okay?_

**_Steve:_ ** _yeah i mean im fine_

**_Steve:_ ** _i think she’s just doing the worried parent thing_

**_Sam:_ ** _ah, i get u. my mom did the same._

**_Steve:_ ** _did u serve?_

**_Sam:_ ** _yeah, i was pararescue._

**_Steve:_ ** _oh right._

**_Steve:_ ** _can i ask u something?_

**_Sam:_ ** _go for it_

**_Steve:_ ** _have u ever woken up screaming?_

**_Sam:_ ** _yeah_

**_Sam:_ ** _but i feel like this is probably a conversation best not had over text. do u want to come in to the VA? or meet out somewhere for coffee?_

**_Steve:_ ** _uh im just kinda staying at home now_

**_Sam:_ ** _give me ur address and i'll bring the coffee to u then._

**_Steve:_ ** _u don’t have to do that_

**_Sam:_ ** _it’s my job buddy. i'm leaving now, what u want from starbucks??_

And basically, that was how Steve ended up texting his address to some random dude he had never met before, while waiting for said random dude to bring him an iced coffee. Which Sam apparently thought was boring, but Steve didn’t really care too much about all those things with like… nine different syrups and pixie dust or whatever.

 

**_Sam:_ ** _i'm here come let me in_

**_Steve:_ ** _be right down_

Steve didn’t actually know why he bothered to reply to Sam’s text, because it only managed to actually send as he reached the door. Steve pulled it open, right as the guy on the other side received a text.

They kind of just stared at each other for a moment.

‘Don’t bother checking that, it was me,’ Steve blurted. ‘Uh, Sam?’

‘Steve,’ Sam nodded. ‘I’d shake your hand but I got some muffin things too.’

‘Oh, you didn’t have to,’ Steve stepped aside to let Sam in. ‘We’re just upstairs.’

‘Okay, cool.’ Sam started off up the stairs, leaving Steve to lock the door to the building behind them and follow him up.

‘You can just sit anywhere,’ Steve said, gesturing around the room, as he slid the lock across the door, then took a seat in the armchair next to the kitchen doorway. ‘So, uh…’

‘How are you, Steve?’ Sam asked, handing over his iced coffee, and holding out the little bag to Steve, giving him first pick of the muffins.

Steve shrugged. ‘I _feel_ fine.’

‘Are you, though?’

Steve sipped the coffee and looked around the room. He had cleaned the entire apartment since he’d been back. He’d even gone on a bunch of mommy blogs to see if he could find any new ways to clean things (he discovered the cleaning power of vinegar in the bathroom a couple of days ago, and would probably consider it a life changing moment). This would’ve seemed great and productive, except that Steve hated cleaning, and only did it when absolutely necessary. Like, he kept things clean, but he just… didn’t do everything in the space of four days.

‘Probably not, no.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Uhh…’ Steve trailed off and picked off a bit of the muffin Sam had brought for him. ‘I guess war just had a bigger impact on me than I was expecting.’

‘How so?’ Sam asked, breaking off a bit of his own muffin and popping it in his mouth.

‘I didn’t think I’d come home and scream in my sleep. I didn’t think I would keep myself in my mom’s apartment for a week without going outside.’

Sam chewed thoughtfully as he watched Steve systematically deconstruct the bit of muffin into even smaller bits. ‘Are you afraid something will happen if you go outside? Or do you just feel like being at home?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Should we go for a walk then?’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’

Steve looked up at Sam, then back away as he took another sip of his drink. ‘I don’t really want to.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re going around in circles here.’

Sam raised an eyebrow and sat back on the couch, eating another bite of muffin before saying, ‘Okay, then. Tell me about your dreams. The ones that wake you up.’

‘I don’t really remember them,’ Steve shrugged. ‘They go as soon as I wake up, but I always feel like I’m about to die, which is probably why I wake up.’

‘Hmm. Did anything happen while you were overseas? Something that made you feel that way?’

‘I mean… yeah. All the time.’ Steve scoffed and shook his head as he slumped in his chair, picking out a blueberry from his muffin and inspecting it, before eating it slowly. ‘You know, the first thing I did when my mom brought me here was check for hostiles?’

‘It can become a reflex when you enter new places, like you’re just so used to doing it, you can’t help yourself. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything _bad_ , Steve.’

‘You know what _is_ bad?’

‘What?’

‘I love going for runs. Early in the morning, while it’s still kinda dark, and no one is around. Just me and the trees.’

‘How is that bad?’

‘I don’t want to leave my mom’s apartment to _go_ for one. I know, realistically, that nothing bad is likely to happen, like even if someone tried to like… stab me or something, I’d be okay. I have too much training for them to get me –’

‘Yeah, I mean, look at you,’ Sam gestured grandly to Steve. ‘You’d just crush some dude’s head like a peanut.’

Steve broke a small smile. ‘Something like that. But the point is, I can’t _make_ myself go out. I wake up at the crack of dawn, and I tell myself, _“Okay, have coffee, then go for a run,”_ then half an hour later, I think, _“I’ll wait for Mom to get up and we can have breakfast,”_ and I just put it off and off, until my mom is back and then we have dinner, and all I’ve done is clean the entire fucking apartment again.’

‘So you want to run, but you just… You’re scared of something and can’t place it?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Okay,’ Sam nodded. ‘Want to go tomorrow morning? I’ll come past here on my way to the park for my run, and we’ll see how you go with a buddy. Sound good? I can even show you the route on your phone or something beforehand, if you think that would help.’

‘You’d run with me?’

‘Yeah, of course. If you get halfway to the park, or halfway _around_ the park, and decide you want to go home, then I’ll take you back home as well.’

‘Do you usually do this for people you meet at the VA?’ Steve asked, considering the idea.

‘No, but I didn’t meet you at the VA,’ Sam shrugged. ‘I think we’re friends now, and friends help each other out, right? Equal footing. No therapist/patient dynamic or anything. Just friends.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay? You’re accepting that? Or you’ll take me up on the running buddy offer?’

‘Both.’

Sam grinned. ‘Alright then, buddy.’

 

* * *

 

Sam helped Steve _tremendously._ He still woke up every now and then, a scream breaking forth from his lungs, but he left the house. It took a couple of weeks for him to feel comfortable doing it, but Sam was understanding, even when Steve decided he had to go back home, right as they breached the gates to the park.

Turned out Sam was actually getting up an hour earlier than usual to go for a run with Steve, because he wanted Steve to feel better about going out. Steve made his mom a _thank you_ dinner for finding Sam the day Steve discovered that. (Of course, he thanked Sam profusely, because, _“Really, you didn’t need to get up at five, I would’ve been okay going later.”_ )

The day Steve felt like he would try going for a run by himself, he sent Sam a text the night before saying he was feeling kinda shit, and might just skip the run tomorrow, meaning Sam could sleep in.

 

**_Sam:_ ** _oh thank god the extra two cups of coffee before we go is really doing something to my digestive system_

**_Steve:_ ** _too much information!!_

As Steve entered the park, feeling totally at ease, he sent Sam a picture of him giving a thumbs up, the city behind him, and received an enthusiastic, _“good job buddy!!!”_ back. Steve felt like he had really achieved something with that, and arrived back home, sweaty and disgusting, just as his mom was getting up and finishing off her coffee.

‘Morning, honey,’ she smiled. ‘How’s Sam today?’

‘Probably really good,’ Steve grinned. ‘I let him sleep in and went by myself.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah!’

‘And everything was okay?’ At Steve’s happy nod, Sarah smiled and went in for a hug. She quickly changed her mind, however, and decided to just pat his shoulder. ‘That’s great, Stevie. Do you want the shower first?’

‘No, it’s okay. You go.’

‘Okay,’ she said, setting her coffee cup down next to the sink, to be refilled once she came back for breakfast after her shower. ‘I’m proud of you, Stevie.’

‘Thanks, Mom,’ Steve smiled, waiting for her to leave, before getting himself a glass from the cupboard for some orange juice.

His hand must’ve been clammy from his run or something, because as he slid the glass from its shelf, it continued its descent and shattered as it hit the floor.

And Steve was back.

_They shot out the windows first, hoping to flush the inhabitants out of the rooms, or even better, out the doors. They didn’t want to harm the inhabitants, but they had received intel that there was a violent hostile hiding out in the house._

_A few other members of Steve’s squad went in first, kicking down the door and scanning the rooms, signalling they were clear, before Steve moved on to the next._

_It wasn’t like the house was huge. There were a couple of bedrooms, a rudimental bathroom, and the communal living and dining area, with a small stove in the corner._

_‘All clear!’ Steve called back to his unit. ‘Collins, check the back.’_

_Collins nodded and swiftly made his way out the back door. ‘Cap!’_

_Steve went the same way as Collins had, and found him standing in a small courtyard area. A woman and three young children sat huddled in the very back corner of the courtyard, the woman holding her hands over the mouths of the two smallest children, who were sobbing and clutching their mother’s skirt._

_Collins jerked his head towards where a boy sat against the other side of the courtyard, holding a gun almost bigger than he, and pointing it at them._

_Steve lowered his own weapon and held his hands out to show he meant no harm. This kid couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve._

_But God, did Steve know a thing or two about the amount of child soldiers in this damn war._

_‘Is this the person we’re looking for?’ Steve asked Collins quietly, keeping his eyes on the kid in case he acted out._

_‘He’s the only one holding a gun.’_

_Steve sighed and turned his attention back to the boy. ‘We’re not here to hurt you,’ he said soothingly, taking a step forward. ‘We’re here to help.’_

_The boy yelled something and shook his gun at Steve. Fuck, this poor kid was scared shitless._

_‘Okay, okay, I’ll stay here,’ Steve said, reaching slowly around to one of his back pockets, pulling out something he knew tended to work in these situations. ‘You like chocolate?’ he asked, holding the bar out._

_The boy’s eyes zoned onto the bar and he bit his lip, like he was considering something. He looked back up to Steve and momentarily tightened his grip on the gun, in that way you tend to do before you throw something down._

_‘Candy, see?’ Steve peeled part of the wrapper back and showed the boy. ‘Good, yeah?’_

_The boy’s eyes brightened, and he lowered his gun, putting it towards the ground, in favour of reaching out for Steve’s chocolate._

_Before the gun hit the dirt, a shot echoed, and sprayed the wall behind the kid red._

_The woman screamed, beginning to sob herself, as Steve spun around to see the origin of the shot. One of the new kids in his unit. ‘The fuck did you do that for!’_

_‘He had a gun, Cap!’_

_‘Captain Rogers or Sir,’ Steve said coldly, coming up to the new soldier. ‘Not Cap. Not when_ you _shoot an innocent kid in the head, you fucking idiot.’_

_‘He had a gun!’ the soldier repeated, pointing at the offending item._

_‘Yeah, so do I. You gonna shoot me?’_

_‘No, sir, you’re not the enemy.’_

_‘And a twelve year old is? You don’t know if he’s the person we were looking for, he might never have used that. He might’ve found it on the street and decided to use it to protect his family, and you fucking_ shot _him.’_

_‘Sir, I –’_

_‘You shot him,’ Steve continued, nodding to where the woman had crawled across to the boy’s body. ‘In front of his damn mother. Oh, now_ she’s _near the gun, gonna shoot her?’_

_‘Should I?’_

_Steve resisted the urge to punch this fucking moron. ‘We’re going. Everyone out.’_

Steve still saw that kid behind his eyes sometimes. The red on his forehead, his mother weeping as she gathered him into her arms, and he wondered what would’ve happened if that kid was still alive.

Would it have solved the war? Probably not. Would Steve feel less guilty for all the horrible shit he’d seen? Unlikely. Would that kid and his mom still be together? Also unlikely. So was what happened ultimately a better or worse fate?

That was the kind of shit that kept Steve awake at night.

 

* * *

 

Steve enjoyed his morning runs, now. There was something he just really loved about being witness to the people making their way home after a long night, something about the way he could see the sun make the buildings drip with gold, as it made its way across the sky. It was magical, he liked to think.

Steve very, _very_ , rarely saw someone else running. Rarer still was to see someone running in his park, but here he was, heading towards some dude who looked like he’d rather be doing anything but this. (Then again, maybe not. It looked like he had actual _workout_ clothes on, not random stuff that’d suit his purpose.)

As the other guy got closer, Steve decided to reach out, early morning jogger to early morning jogger. Maybe they could be friends.

‘Morning!’ Steve said cheerfully, giving a nod in greeting, and honest to God, the other guy fucking _squeaked_ in reply.

Not only did he squeak, but he also made an abrupt 90 degree turn and started sprinting across the still-slightly-frozen grass. Like, sprinting as if something was after him, and possibly wielding a large knife.

Steve couldn’t help but stop and watch the guy make his hasty departure. As Steve watched him and his man bun run away, he couldn’t help but feel like he knew him from somewhere.

Huh.


	2. A Story of Roots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i heard peggy is a lil ooc in this chapter, so if she is, my apologies.) (also, spoilers, peggy appears.)

_Don’t freak out._

_Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out._

_This was bound to happen eventually._

Bucky tried so hard to calm himself down as he sprinted back towards his apartment. He needed to get a grip on himself right the fuck now or he was going to have another panic attack, so he swerved as he hit the edge of the grass, and ducked behind the trunk of a tree.

He leaned over, grasping his knees, taking deep breaths in and out.

_In and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In and out. It’s okay, everything is okay. You knew this would happen, you’re prepared to deal with it, you’re going to get through this._

Bucky fought down a sob making its way into his throat, and focused on his plan of attack for this situation.

Alter route of running? Possible. Unlikely to work, because fate is a bitch like that. Change time of running? Perhaps come an hour earlier or an hour later? Slightly more feasible. It was possible not-Ben might be coming to the park at this particular time because he had other things to do with his day afterwards.

Excellent. Starting tomorrow, Bucky would either come an hour earlier, or an hour later, depending when he woke up, and whether or not he could actually find it in himself to get up at 4:30 in the morning to go running.

Perhaps an hour later, then. Bucky would be okay with 6:30 runs, as opposed to 5:30 runs.

Ultimately, would any of these methods work? Chances ranged from slim to none. Bucky wasn’t some idiot trying to avoid someone he didn’t know. Bucky was some idiot trying to skip out on something that he had been doing for hundreds of fucking years. Fate didn’t fuck around – if you tried to avoid it, those three ugly crones or whatever would just reweave your threads, and the same shit would happen to you anyway.

The fuck was the point in even _trying_?

Uh, well. Call him crazy, but Bucky wasn’t that fond of watching someone he loved die. Just one of those quirky things that really separated him from the general public. So, despite Bucky knowing there was pretty much nothing he could do to hide from this, he resolved to do his damn best to avoid not-Ben anyway.

But, y’know, should the not-Ben present himself as… an opportunity, then Bucky knew he would take it. He might be a different person every time from the man Bucky had first fallen for, but it always ended the same. Bucky fell for him, and not-Ben died as soon as he told him. And it _sucked_.

Bucky wished he had friends he could bitch about this situation to, he really did, but that was the thing about being immortal, he had discovered. People died. Fuck, _everyone_ Bucky knew died, whether it was his fault or not. (He liked to joke to himself that it was part of the reason he could never hold down a partner.) (And yeah, okay, after however long of only having himself to make jokes to, his sense of humour had somewhat deteriorated.)

 

* * *

 

Steve had comfortably sunk back into civilian life, it seemed. So much so that he started _sleeping in_.

Only by an hour, but still. He also might’ve missed Sam’s running commentary (pun intended) as they made their way around the park in the morning, but like hell was he going to tell him that, because he’d never hear the end of it.

****

**_Steve:_ ** _u still want a running buddy?_

**_Sam:_ ** _depends who it is_

**_Steve:_ ** _…me????_

**_Sam:_ ** _damn i was hoping u’d say someone cool like…_

**_Steve:_ ** _like who?_

**_Sam:_ ** _idk just someone cool_

**_Sam:_ ** _BUTTTTTTT i suppose u will have to do_

**_Steve:_ ** _okay?? thanks??_

**_Sam:_ ** _buddy im jokin ur cool_

**_Sam:_ ** _ofc ur my buddy_

**_Steve:_ ** _oh good :))))) tomorrow??_

**_Sam:_ ** _meet u at the gates at 6:45 yeah?_

**_Steve:_ ** _yep :)_

**_[INCOMING: Sam]_ **

****

‘Sam?’ Steve asked, answering the phone right as he took a huge bite from his apple. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just checking in like a good friend is supposed to,’ Sam replied, apparently taking a bite of something as well if the _“mmph, mm”_ noise was anything to go by. Then again, he might not have been eating…

‘Please tell me that’s food related, or is something definitely not G-rated happening right now?’

‘Donut,’ Sam said by way of explanation. ‘’s why I run. How you doin’?’

‘I’m good. Is this Official VA Sam I’m talking to now?’

‘Yep. Unleash your worries.’

‘Uhh, well. I’m good, like I said. Going outside, and I’ve stopped cleaning as much, which my mom is feeling a bit conflicted about, I guess.’

‘Still having the dreams?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you remember them?’

Steve sighed and leaned against the kitchen bench, twisting the apple to find a good chunk to bite off. ‘Not really.’

‘So kinda?’ Sam prodded.

‘I don’t really want to talk about them right now.’

‘Okay, but you know I’m happy for you to call me any time, right? If it’s three in the morning and you’ve just woken up and remembered, you can call me right then and there and tell me about it.’

‘I know.’

‘I can’t promise I’ll be fully conscious, but I’m here for you, buddy.’

‘I know,’ Steve repeated. ‘Thanks, Sam.’

‘It’s fine, Steve. Damn, sorry, my break’s about to end so I gotta go.’

‘Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yep, tomorrow. Uh, but out of curiosity, what are you doing right now?’

‘Nothing, was about to start cleaning the bathroom again. Why?’

‘Wanna come down and sit in on the group I’m about to run?’

Steve paused in bringing his apple to his mouth for another bite, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Sam, even though he wouldn’t see it. ‘Why?’

‘Just to listen, maybe talk a little if you want?’ Sam asked tentatively. ‘I’m not gonna push you, but it might do you good, you know?’

Steve cleared his throat and set the apple down again. ‘Hmm.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘ _No_.’

‘Is that a no?’

‘I don’t know, Sam,’ Steve sighed. ‘Not right now, okay?’

‘Hey, that’s cool. We’re not going anywhere in case you do want to come along at some point.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Okay, well now I really gotta go. See you tomorrow, Steve.’

‘Yeah, looking forward to it.’

As he hung up the phone, Steve found himself without an appetite. However, he hadn’t exactly eaten lunch yet, and hated to waste food, so he ended up half-heartedly eating the rest of the apple anyway.

He felt kinda bad he still hadn’t gone down to the VA, but he also figured he sort of might not need to. He had Sam, and he was basically the only reason Steve might go there. Sam had talked about the whole group therapy/sharing circle thing, and while Steve understood how it would be helpful (as his mother said, _“a problem shared is a problem halved”_ , but for shit’s sake, mother, perhaps not with this crap) the idea really did not appeal to him.

He had enough trouble talking to Sam and his mom about what was going on in his head, all the memories and feelings fighting for his attention, so Steve didn’t want to sit in a room full of people and tell _them_ about it all as well. Steve had never wanted to be a burden like that to anyone else’s consciousness, even though he knew he was probably the only one who saw it that way.

So he decided to go for a run. That way, he would have something to focus on other than cleaning, or debating whether or not he should go to the VA and sit in with Sam. Give him a hard, concrete surface to unleash his emotions on in place of people any day.

As he left the apartment and headed to his park, it struck him how _alive_ the city was during the day. He couldn’t run as fast as he usually liked to, because the footpaths were crowded with people rushing about to tend to their own lives. Even the _park_ had people in it. Granted, not as many pedestrians as on the way there, but still. Enough. He had to swerve a few times so people wouldn’t walk directly into him while they texted.

Nothing, however, surprised Steve more than seeing the fleeing man bun dude from a couple of weeks ago. Had he become a day runner? Maybe he was doing the same as Steve and running from his problems. Thoughts. Whatever.

Man bun dude saw Steve approaching, and briefly looked like he wanted to run away again, if the sudden glance of longing to the grass field was anything to go by.

To Steve’s surprise, he stayed on the path. ‘Hey,’ Steve smiled, as they went past each other.

The other guy just jerked his head awkwardly in greeting and remained silent.

That was a step up, Steve supposed.

_And_ man bun dude was cute. That was something he hadn’t been able to realise while said man bun was running away last time.

 

* * *

 

There was no hope. None. Nada. Zilch.

Bucky had tried to switch things up by going for runs later in the day, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t run into not-Ben (literally _or_ figuratively) but that tactic seemed to only work for… what had it been, a week? Ten days? Fucking hell, this wasn’t going to work, so Bucky might as well just fucking give up.

Strange as it may seem, Bucky actually kind of enjoyed his early morning runs. He liked being out when the park was more or less deserted, especially if it meant he didn’t have to lie in bed pondering the absolute shitstorm that had been his life thus far. Maybe he should just go back to his old running time. Who knows, perhaps not-Ben would stick to running in the middle of the day.

Unlikely.

But Bucky would give it a shot anyway. Fuck it.

So, the next morning, he found himself running to the park do to his usual laps around the course he had decided on. At this point, he barely even realised where he was going, and was surprised at where he suddenly found himself sometimes, due to muscle memory taking over and doing the thinking for him.

Bucky was kind of disappointed he didn’t see not-Ben on his run, if he was being perfectly honest. He might’ve done an extra lap to see if not-Ben popped up, but that was no one’s business apart from his own. Not like anyone would _make_ it their business. Bucky didn’t have friends to tease him about running for longer with hopes he’d see a boy.

Just as Bucky had given up and started heading for the gates out of the park, his efforts were proved not to be in vain. Not-Ben was making his way towards Bucky, another guy trailing behind him. Not-Ben ran like he was in a competitive marathon, and the ferocity that came with it honestly scared Bucky a bit.

Bucky was maybe a little _too_ focused on not-Ben’s running glare, and was apparently paying very little attention to the path, because he tripped over a goddamn tree root that had broken through the pavement.

And he _knew_ that it was there. He religiously avoided it every morning, and yet, _here he was_. Sprawled across the footpath like a fucking moron, the tell-tale sting of scraped knees, and blood blooming from grazes on the heels of his palms.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he muttered, rolling to his side and sitting up. ‘Good one, idiot.’

‘Oh my God, are you okay?’ not-Ben called, rushing to Bucky’s side. (Though how he could possibly have sped up was beyond Bucky’s imagining.)

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Bucky said, hissing as he picked out a particularly large piece of stone from his hand. ‘Just… tripped.’

‘Oh, I know. I saw,’ not-Ben nodded. ‘That was an impressive amount of air time you got there. Can I help you somehow?’

‘Help me up?’ Bucky asked, wincing as he bent his knee to stand. ‘Shit, that hurt like a bitch.’

Not-Ben chuckled and practically lifted Bucky off the pavement (Bucky was _in love_ with him already, this boy could manhandle him any day or – _shut up!_ ) and helped him limp over to the closest bench. ‘Anything else I can do? I mean… you probably need a first aid kit, or some water at least.’

‘Well unless you have one of those,’ Bucky brushed a hand over his knee like he was just getting rid of dust, and grimaced as he irritated the gravel imbedded in his skin instead.

‘Sadly, I don’t. Not here, at least. I have one at home. My mom’s a nurse, so she’s pretty prepared for everything,’ not-Ben said, blushing slightly. ‘Sorry, rambling.’

‘It’s fine,’ Bucky raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to look not-Ben up and down. He failed, and sighed gently, trying to play it off like he had a wave of pain from somewhere, and not that he’d just discovered his new favourite piece of someone else’s anatomy. (Not-Ben’s traps were _delicious_ to gaze at, but his legs? God, how he’d love to get up close and personal with those thighs…)

‘Do you have a first aid kit?’ not-Ben asked, oblivious to Bucky’s less than innocent thoughts. ‘I could take you to my house, and patch you up. My mom would probably help, actually.’

‘You live with your mom?’

Not-Ben’s blush deepened. ‘I just got back from overseas.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m not just going to go home with someone I just met, and whose name I don’t know. Usually that requires a drink first.’ _Jesus Christ, shut up._

‘My name is Steve,’ _Steve_ smiled. ‘There, now we ain’t strangers anymore.’

‘Yeah, alright, Forrest Gump. I’m Bucky.’

‘Bucky,’ Steve repeated. ‘Nice to meet you. I guess.’

‘Steve, who’s this?’ the guy he had been running with asked, finally catching up.

‘This is Bucky,’ Steve said. ‘He tripped on the root and requires medical attention.’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘I’m fine, I don’t –’

‘Hmm, you’re right,’ other dude nodded, dropping into a squat beside Bucky and prodding his knee.

‘Ow, what the fuck?’

‘Interesting,’ other dude stood up. ‘You’re lucky, I was sort of the designated _“with no other options”_ field medic in my unit. Did I ever tell you that, Steve?’

‘Ah, no. You failed to mention that.’

‘Oh, well. I was the unit Dad.’

‘Dadatrooper,’ Steve grinned. ‘Good joke?’

‘Terrible,’ other dude shook his head. ‘We should help him, Steve. It’s our civil duty as vets. Probably. Maybe not.’

‘Vets?’ Bucky asked. ‘If you guys specialise in animals, I’m just gonna sit here and wait for death to take me, thanks.’

The other dude huffed. ‘Veterans.’

‘I was joking.’

‘That was even worse than Steve’s joke, then.’

‘Sam, we should take him home,’ Steve said earnestly. ‘We need to help Bucky.’

‘You don’t need to help Bucky, Bucky is fine,’ Bucky said. Also – did Steve already have a boyfriend? Maybe Bucky could just avoid this whole _infinite soulmate_ mess if he was already taken. Actually, that would be worse. What the fuck, soulmate? You’re already taken? How rude.

‘Bucky is not fine,’ Steve said, ignoring Bucky. ‘He’s going to bleed to death.’

‘Bucky is not going to bleed to death, Bucky doesn’t know you, Bucky is not going to go crash your mom’s breakfast,’ Bucky said, standing with a wince, and making his way past the two of them.

‘Steve, your charity case is escaping,’ Sam deadpanned, making no move to stop Bucky from slowly leaving the scene.

‘I’m not a charity case, thank you!’ Bucky called back, making his way to the gates.

‘No, wait,’ Steve said, appearing at Bucky’s elbow. ‘Please let me help you. I feel sort of responsible.’

‘Why? Did you plant that damn tree and tell it where to poke its roots up through the ground?’

‘No, but I know I have this intense running face and it tends to catch people up sometimes.’

‘Well, thank you for your concern, but it was not your face that made me trip.’ _Liar._

‘Okay, well, let me make it up to you anyway,’ Steve said. ‘Please.’

Bucky stopped and looked incredulously at Steve. He could tell he wasn’t going to let this go. ‘My options?’

‘Let me take you home and patch you up, or let me take you out for coffee and patch you up anyway.’

‘Quite an expansive list there.’

‘Please? I’m not a creepy dude, I just… I care.’

‘He cares too much!’ Sam called, pulling their attention back to where he had plonked himself on the bench, carefully avoiding the splatters of blood Bucky had left behind on it from his hands.

Bucky sighed and looked down to his knees. The blood was making its way down towards his shins, now, and Bucky would probably not make it home before it reached his shoes. And he _really_ liked these shoes. ‘Where do you live? How far away?’

‘Not far, like ten minutes.’

Bucky considered this for a few moments, watching the blood wind its way ever closer to his shoes, and nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah, alright.’

Steve smiled happily and looped his arm around Bucky’s waist, half carrying, half leading him towards his house, pausing briefly to call back to his friend, ‘Sam, are you coming?’

‘Nah, I should probably keep going,’ Sam replied. ‘Some of us gotta work to keep looking this good.’

‘Okay, I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Yeah, later,’ Sam called back, heading further into the park.

‘So, Bucky,’ Steve said, turning left at the gates. ‘What brings you here so early?’

‘Running?’ Bucky offered lamely. Like fuck was he going to tell Steve the truth. _“Oh, yeah, I’m here because I run away from my dreams, which funnily enough, you haunt, because you’re always fucking dying in them.”_ Not going to happen.

‘Running.’

‘Why do you sound so surprised at that?’

Steve shrugged. ‘I’m here because I can’t sleep.’

‘Trust me, you’re not alone in that,’ Bucky muttered. ‘Seriously, how far is your house?’

‘Just up here, don’t worry.’

‘I worry because I like these shoes.’

‘I could carry you there if it would make you feel better.’

‘Ah, no. No, thank you.’ _You can carry me to your bedroom if – shut up!_

‘Offer’s there,’ Steve grinned. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘I guess.’

‘Do you remember me?’

Bucky balked and looked cautiously up to Steve. ‘What?’

‘The first time I saw you at the park, you sort of took off across the field when you saw me heading the same way as you,’ Steve explained. ‘I was just wondering why.’

‘Thought you were someone else.’

‘Oh. I hope you end up liking me better than the person who made you run away because you thought I was them.’

_You have no idea._ ‘Yeah.’

Steve came to a stop at a weathered door and pulled out his keys. ‘You know what time it is?’

‘Probably sometime around seven.’

‘Okay,’ Steve nodded, pushing open the door and letting Bucky inside. ‘Try not to get blood on the floor.’

‘I’m trying not to get blood on my shoes, so it’s gonna have to bypass them to get to the ground, Steve.’

‘Please remember your hands are bleeding as well.’

‘Yeah, because I forgot about that.’

‘Mhmm. Up the stairs.’

‘Oh, for god’s sake,’ Bucky muttered, ignoring the way his skinned knees were protesting at every step. ‘Is this payback for cutting your run short? Because you offered.’

‘I know, and it’s not payback, you’re just lucky.’

‘Wow, I’m really feeling it.’

‘Good,’ Steve replied, giving him a (somewhat sarcastic?) thumbs up as Bucky limped up the final steps. ‘The kitchen is straight ahead, so you can just take a seat on one of the chairs in there while I get the first aid kit.’

‘Okay, _mom_.’

Steve grinned as he walked down the hall and went into the small bathroom opposite his mom’s room, taking the first aid kit out from under the sink.

‘Steve,’ Sarah whispered, standing in the doorway to her room.

‘Mom? What are you doing awake?’

‘Is there a boy in my house?’ she asked, ignoring his question.

‘His name is Bucky. He tripped in the park and skinned his knees and his hands.’

Sarah raised an eyebrow and went back into her room, shutting the door behind her. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ Steve rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen.

Bucky yawned as Steve returned with the small plastic box in his hands, and stretched his legs in front of him. ‘Do your worst.’

‘It’s not going to hurt,’ Steve said, as he washed his hands before getting a small dish from one of the cupboards around him and kneeling in front of Bucky. He opened the box and took a pair of tweezers out, preparing to pick bits of gravel out after cleaning Bucky’s legs of blood and dirt. ‘Maybe it will, actually. I don’t know.’

‘Is this supposed to be a rousing, supportive speech?’

‘Probably.’

‘Well, it’s terrible.’

‘You’ll have to forgive me, I’m out of practice.’

Bucky tilted his head and watched Steve as he gently started cleaning the crap from in his knee. ‘Were you military as well? Like your friend…’

‘Sam?’

‘Yeah, the running guy,’ Bucky nodded. ‘Is that how you met?’

‘Ah, no,’ Steve said quietly, taking the tweezers to pick out a large stone. ‘He was pararescue in the Air Force, and I was a Captain in the Army.’

‘How then? If I’m allowed to ask.’

‘No, you are. He works at the VA, helped me out when I first got back. Still does.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s okay, though,’ Steve glanced up and smiled briefly. ‘He’s very good at his job.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ Bucky agreed, watching Steve work, cleaning out the scrapes like he had done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had. Bucky doubted he had got to being a Captain without seeing some shit. ‘Sorry for taking you from your run.’

‘Don’t worry about it, I offered. I like helping,’ Steve said, wiping some antiseptic over the cuts on one fully cleaned knee, which actually didn’t look that bad anymore. ‘Besides, couldn’t have you dying from septicaemia before I take you out first, right?’

Bucky raised an eyebrow and swung his leg lightly to test out his (now bandaged) knee. ‘Are you saying you want to date me, Captain?’

‘I would love to date you, yes,’ Steve winked. ‘But I don’t know if you would love to date me.’

‘Why?’

‘I mean…’ Steve trailed off and started intently working on the other knee, as to avoid eye contact with Bucky. ‘I don’t know if you’re into guys or whatever.’

Bucky rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh. ‘You know the Kinsey Scale?’

Steve looked up and nodded slowly. ‘Yeah…’

‘I’m like… at least a five.’

Steve raised his eyebrows and paused with the cloth he was using to clean Bucky’s skin. ‘So you would have no issues dating me?’

‘Nope.’

‘Great! Coffee, then?’

See, the thing was, Bucky knew this was all a bad idea. He knew that accepting Steve’s help with his shredded knees and hands was a bad idea, he knew telling Steve he was like… mostly gay was _also_ a bad idea, he knew that agreeing to coffee with Steve was an even worse idea. Bucky knew where this would end up, but maybe this would be the time when things would end differently. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go out with Steve. Maybe the only bad idea would be turning him down.

It was most likely that everything would end the way it always did. Steve dead, and Bucky with his heart broken all over again.

But Bucky always had been a masochist.

‘Yeah,’ he found himself saying, even with a smile playing around his lips. ‘Coffee would be great.’

 

* * *

 

**_Steve:_ ** _hey! sam wants me to go out for drinks w him and some people tonight and i was wondering if u wanted to come with??_

**_Steve:_ ** _u totally don’t have to i just don’t know these people and ur like my only friend apart from my mom and sam lol_

**_Bucky:_ ** _yeah sure i don’t have any friends either_

**_Bucky:_ ** _this could work out well for us both hahaha_

**_Steve:_ ** _here’s hoping! i'll text u when sam has told me where we’re supposed to be going_

**_Bucky:_ ** _ya that’s fine_

**_Steve:_ ** _okay :))))) probably be around 8ish?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _great :))) i'll see u then_

It had been a couple of days since Bucky had gone out for coffee with Steve, and fuck if it didn’t make Bucky feel homesick for him, even though Steve was sitting _right there_. He had missed him so much, because even though he was a completely different person, and Bucky didn’t actually _know_ him, some things never changed.

Like the way Steve ordered coffee with too much sugar, how he subconsciously twisted his fingers when he paid attention to something, how he _laughed_. Each and every giggle, or snort, or full on, head thrown back laugh was precious to Bucky, much like the way every drop of water would be precious to a man lost in the desert.

Steve’s eyes were so damn _clear_. Last time Bucky had seen those eyes, they had been clouded and lifeless, and now they were _here_ and _Steve_ was here, and he was watching Bucky so intently while he talked and Bucky was just _lost._

‘Are you okay?’ Steve had asked, smiling slightly at Bucky’s inattentiveness. ‘Is there something on my face?’

In another lifetime, Bucky had answered that question with _“Yeah, stupid.”_ In this lifetime, Bucky just smiled back and shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m just a little tired.’

Steve had asked about Bucky’s hands and knees, earning a grimace from him, as he inspected his palms and resisted the urge to pick at the freshly formed scabs. Bucky’s curse (was this a curse? It sure as fuck wasn’t a gift) may have stopped him from passing through Death’s door, but it made no effort to speed his retreat away from it, and he healed at the normal pace. Stupid curse.

Bucky had decided not to go running for a few days until his knees had got over themselves enough to allow him to walk without pain, let alone _run_. Steve had asked for Bucky’s address because he wanted to bring him soup, apparently, but Bucky drew the line there. He forgot how caring this guy tended to be. Maybe that was one of the things that had made him fall for him in the very first place. Bucky couldn’t remember anymore.

But here he was, already dreading the day when he and Steve would be _he and Steve_ , because that would mean that this would be over again. The way Steve was going, he’d be dead within months, because he had attached himself to Bucky from pretty much the first time they had seen each other in the park, and seemed set on dating him – or being his friend at the _very_ least.

So here he was. Agreeing to drinks with Steve and Sam and Sam’s friends.

Hmm.

 

* * *

 

Steve picked Bucky up at eight exactly, waiting very gentleman-like outside his building, and hailed down a passing cab.

Bucky raised an eyebrow suspiciously at this behaviour, because the bar they were supposed to be going to was only a twenty-minute walk away, and Bucky was more than happy to actually _walk_ there. ‘Why are we taking a cab?’

‘Your knees will be killing you by the time we arrive,’ Steve explained, herding Bucky into the backseat and giving the driver the name of the bar. ‘And how am I supposed to ruin your knees with dancing if you’re already falling apart when we get there?’

Bucky pursed his lips, holding in the laughter bubbling in his chest. ‘Trust me when I say I’ve had worse than skinned knees, Steve.’

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘It’s called _caution_.’

‘I thought you said you were going to ruin my knees with dancing anyway?’

‘Dancing is fun.’

‘Is saving the environment with a twenty-minute walk _not_ fun?’

‘I didn’t leave the army to _walk_ everywhere.’

‘But walking is the best part of being _in_ the army.’ _Oops._ ‘Or so I hear.’

‘Mhmm, well, you’re not hearing it from me.’

Bucky decided to change the subject. Steve clearly didn’t like talking about the military, or at least, he wasn’t ready to. ‘So do you know anyone that’s gonna be there?’

‘I know Sam,’ Steve shrugged. ‘He’s told me about the other people, but I’ve never met them. He thinks I’ll get along with them, though, so that’s pretty much why I’m going.’

‘I’m sensing there’s an _“and”_ coming.’

‘Yeah, _and_ my mom made me.’

‘She’s making you go?’

‘She thinks I don’t have enough friends.’

‘If me and Sam are your only friends, then I agree.’

‘Shut up,’ Steve laughed. ‘I think we’re here,’ he said, as the cab pulled over.

‘Do you want me to get it?’ Bucky asked, preparing to open his door.

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ Steve smiled, handing some cash to the driver. ‘I made you take the cab, I’ll pay. You can buy me a drink, if you want.’

‘Done.’

As Steve and Bucky entered the bar, scanning the partially empty space, there was a loud call of, _‘Captain!’_

Steve spun towards the source of the noise, a tall brunette in a booth near the windows, and his face split into a grin. ‘Agent!’

The woman struggled past the people she was sitting with (swatting them to get back, if the arm movements were anything to go by) and swiftly made her way to where Steve and Bucky were, for some reason, still in the middle of the bar. ‘I should’ve known it would be you!’ the woman (agent?) grinned, pulling Steve into a tight hug as she finally reached them. ‘Sam just told me his friend _Steve_ was coming.’

‘You may need to have some serious words with him, then,’ Steve replied, releasing her. ‘It’s so good to see you! How long has it been?’

‘Oh, at least two years. When did you leave the army?’

‘A few months ago. Are you still..?’

‘No, I left about… seven months ago? I was offered a job here, and decided maybe a change of pace would be good for me,’ she smiled and smoothed down his already impeccably placed hair, before looking across to Bucky. ‘I’m so sorry, we’re being so rude to your friend, Steve.’

‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. Peg, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Agent Peggy Carter. You’re still “Agent”, right?’

‘I am,’ Peggy held her hand out to Bucky, which he shook, slightly surprised at the strength of her grip. He liked her already. ‘Sorry for the formal handshake, but you have that look in your eye like a person who doesn’t like hugs very much.’

Bucky smiled and laughed lightly. ‘Is it that obvious?’

Peggy winked and started towards their table, leading Steve and Bucky behind her. ‘No, I’m just very good.’

As they reached the booth, Peggy pointed people out, and waved her hands to get them to move over and around. ‘Steve and Bucky, this is, of course, Sam. We have Tony, mechanical master, Pepper, his lovely girlfriend, and Clint.’

‘Why don’t I get a warm and fuzzy title?’ Clint grumbled.

‘Sorry, _expert marksman_ Clint.’

‘That’s better.’

‘Mhmm, now scoot,’ Peggy said, sitting in the vacated space and sliding down to allow Steve and Bucky to sit. ‘Samuel, why did you not tell me your friend Steve was my boyfriend, the Captain?’

‘Uhh…’ Sam looked awkwardly between Steve, Bucky, and Peggy. ‘What?’

‘I’m just joking,’ she grinned. ‘But why did you not say it was Rogers?’

‘I didn’t think you knew each other?’

‘You told _me_ you had a friend called Margaret coming to drinks,’ Steve said, eyebrow raised.

‘ _Margaret_?’ Peggy repeated. ‘Samuel, we’re going to be having words at a later date.’

‘ _Steve_ ,’ Sam whined. ‘You got me in trouble with _mom_.’

Steve shrugged. ‘Sorry, buddy.’

The banter continued between the three of them, leaving Bucky to make conversation with the others in their booth. Bucky decided he rather liked these people. Tony and Pepper were clearly made for each other, both charismatic and smart, with Pepper appearing to be able to tone down Tony’s crazy and handle him with ease.

Clint was a funny guy. He was very laid back, and while he didn’t speak as much as anyone else at the table, every word out of his mouth was worth listening to. Occasionally, he just seemed bored and would touch near his ear, before touching it again a little while later and joining back in the conversation. (Bucky later found out from Sam that Clint was switching off and on hearing aids, and sometimes didn’t bother listening to conversations if he figured he would be uninterested in it.) (He also found out that Clint liked to pull the deaf card and make people repeat things several times, even though he had been listening the whole time.)

Peggy was, however, the standout. Bucky could see that she and Steve had history, and were – or _had_ been – very close. They complimented each other very well, finishing sentences and sharing anecdotes and inside jokes, and it made Bucky a little jealous. He could tell, though, that while Steve clearly did love Peggy, it was purely platonic, and always had been.

She was an incredible woman, clearly intelligent, brave as hell, and at one point, turned and pulled down the shoulder of her shirt to show Bucky the scar there from a past bullet wound. (Steve had nodded and said seriously, _“I told you those plants had very sharp thorns,”_ before Peggy shot him a glare. Steve had actually _winced_ , seeming to know what would happen if he wasn’t quiet _._ And it wasn’t a fake wince, either.)

As they left the bar a few hours later, full of happiness, alcohol, and the buzz of having been around good friends, Steve threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, as they headed back towards his apartment.

‘I’m gonna be straight with you,’ Steve said, once the other members of their party had gone their separate ways.

‘Oh God, is this you friendzoning me?’ Bucky asked, gasping in faux-horror.

‘Uh, well, no,’ Steve released his grip on Bucky, leaving them to just walk side by side. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Go on.’

‘I really like you,’ Steve started, pausing for what he might have considered dramatic effect. ‘And I was hoping you would maybe go out with me? Like as a real date? More than coffee?’

‘A date?’ Bucky echoed.

‘Yeah.’

Bucky bit his lip. Hell yeah, he wanted to date Steve. He knew it was going to happen, because of course it would. Maybe not quite this soon, or it would all be over in the blink of an eye, and Bucky would be alone again. So, he turned to his default: when in doubt, bullshit your way through. Though, this _technically_ didn’t count as bullshitting. ‘My last boyfriend actually died, so I’m not sure I can get into something too heavy quite yet, Steve.’

‘Oh,’ Steve said quietly. ‘I didn’t know, I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, it’s not really the sort of thing you mention to someone as soon as you meet them.’

‘How long ago? Can I ask?’

‘It was a few years ago,’ Bucky said, keeping with the _it’s mostly not bullshit_ theme. ‘But I still miss him like crazy.’

‘Yeah, I get that,’ Steve nodded. ‘We can go slow, Bucky. Slow as you need. I won’t push you for anything you can’t give, I just… I want to date you. I don’t want to just be friends.’

_Oh, Steve. I know._ ‘Neither do I.’

‘Look, I…’ Steve sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets. ‘I’m not gonna ask for more than you can give at any moment. If you don’t want to date right now, that’s okay. I’m prepared to wait as long as you need, though I hope that won’t be too long.’

‘You just met me, Steve. You can hardly be the girl waiting on the shore while I’m off fighting in wars.’

‘I don’t know about that, I think I have the legs for it.’

Bucky smiled despite himself. Fuck, he was in too deep already. They were so screwed. ‘You do have very nice legs.’

‘Thank you,’ Steve grinned. ‘What do you think? Do you want to date me yet?’

‘Of course I do,’ Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘I just want to go slow. Really slow.’

‘Evolution, slow?’

‘Slower.’

‘Wow.’

‘Is that okay?’

‘Slow is good,’ Steve said decisively. ‘I like slow.’

‘Me too,’ Bucky agreed.

‘Hey, Buck?’

‘Mm?’

‘Can I hold your hand?’

Bucky let out a low whistle. ‘I dunno, Cap. That seems a bit zero to sixty in under a second to me.’

Steve laughed and held his hand out anyway. ‘Can this be the exception?’

Bucky grinned and slipped his hand into Steve’s, threading their fingers together. ‘Yeah, this can be the exception.’


	3. A Story of Evolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting a day early in celebration of my bae [jade](http://cuddlysebastian.tumblr.com) getting a new job!
> 
> however this does mean a longer wait until the next chapter lol oops

Bucky could hear the wind whipping through the trees near his home, as he tossed another log onto his fire and prodded it further into the small flames. He sighed and sat back down on the floor next to it, picking up his food and continuing to eat. As he finished his soup, mopping up the last drops with a small chunk of bread, he heard rain beginning to lash the exterior of his house.

Joseph had been out when this weather had hit, even though Bucky had told him that it would turn before he got back. Stupid man never listened to Bucky, because why should he? Joseph had a very archaic way of looking at these things – _“I am a big man, you are a small man, I must hunt and look after you.”_ It kind of annoyed Bucky, actually. It wasn’t like he was the older and wiser one of the two.

Bucky knew he could handle himself, however, so he wasn’t _super_ worried. It was more that Joseph had _said it_ a few days ago, and surely, this weather would find a way to kill him. Only slightly less than that, though, was the fear Bucky held for the safety of his horse.

It was in the small stable attached to the house, and the gods knew that stable was sturdier than Bucky’s actual _house_ , but still. With Joseph and his horse gone, Bucky’s was all alone. He, at least, had two of their dogs to keep him company, but they were curled up together in front of the fire. So maybe Bucky was kind of alone.

Damn _Joseph_ and his stupid needs to go hunting. If Bucky was more of an idiot, he’d go out looking for him, but that probably wouldn’t end well for anyone. Besides –

‘It’s raining!’ Joseph announced, the door swinging into the wall behind it from the force of the wind.

‘Get inside and close the door!’ Bucky said, scrambling up to pull his idiot lover in and fasten the door behind him. ‘Where’s Summer?’

‘She’s coming,’ Joseph said, stopping Bucky from closing the door and looking out into the dark forest behind their house. ‘Might’ve just slipped in mud.’

‘You can clean her, then,’ Bucky grumbled. ‘She’s your dog.’

‘ _Our_ dog,’ Joseph corrected, leaning in to kiss Bucky’s cheek. ‘But you know how she hates mud.’

‘Mhmm, we have that in common.’

‘That’s not quite true, I know you like to be down and dirty,’ Joseph grinned, tossing a couple of rabbits onto the table to be dealt with later. Maybe to be made into more soup.

‘I hate you,’ Bucky muttered, opening the door again to peer outside for Summer.

‘That explains why you moved to a hut in the middle of nowhere with me.’

‘Because I couldn’t stand any of the others.’

‘My mother was fine.’

‘Your mother died.’

‘She was fine while she was alive, then.’

‘Better,’ Bucky grinned, turning back as he heard their dog making her way to the house. ‘Finally,’ he muttered, brushing some leaves off her fur, before ushering her inside.

‘She okay?’

‘She’s fine, just a few twigs in her coat,’ Bucky replied, going back to sit in front of the fire, Joseph joining him with a bowl of his own for soup. ‘What took you so long?’

‘Don’t know if you noticed the rain and the wind, but it makes it a little difficult to navigate sometimes.’

‘This house moves with almost every breeze. Trust me, I noticed.’

Joseph smiled and put a spoonful of soup into his bowl from the pot over the fire. ‘We should work on it over spring, give the walls a bit more strength.’

‘Should’ve done that when we built the place.’

‘We were in a rush.’

‘We were in a rush to _leave_ , not to build.’

‘We were in a rush to steal good supplies.’

‘Aye, that too,’ Bucky murmured, standing and toeing his boots off next to the door. He pulled off his heavy outer shirt, leaving him just in his pants and undershirt, before he went to the corner of the room where their bed was beside the fire, and crawled in under the thick blankets and furs. ‘Hurry up with that. I’m getting cold.’

Joseph turned and winked at him, as he started dunking a piece of bread into his soup. ‘I’ll warm you up just fine, don’t worry about that.’

‘Well you better, I’m falling asleep.’

‘Mhmm,’ Joseph rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his soup as quickly as possible, putting his bowl with the other utensils to be cleaned at some point, and following Bucky’s lead by removing his boots and heavy shirts. ‘Move over,’ he said, nudging Bucky lightly.

‘No, your turn on the other side,’ Bucky muttered, staying exactly where he was and forcing back the smile threatening to split his face.

‘Fine,’ Joseph replied, climbing over Bucky and sliding under the blankets with him. ‘You win.’

As Joseph huddled up to Bucky, slinging an arm over his waist and pulling him in closer, Bucky allowed the smile to take over. ‘I know,’ he whispered, not expecting the other man to hear. ‘I always do.’

Bucky fell asleep, then, feeling safe and secure in the knowledge that even though the wind was trying to rip them apart, and the rain was trying to drown them, he and Joseph would be okay, at least for tonight.

 

* * *

 

It was the sound of snarling that woke Bucky.

That wasn’t even the worst of it.

Very quickly came the screams, the smell of blood, and the loss of warmth behind him. _That_ was when he really woke up.

Bucky couldn’t see Joseph through the trees, but the gods knew that if Bucky could smell his death, hear him screaming for help, then he didn’t want to. So Bucky did something he had never done before, something he never thought he _would_ do.

Bucky _ran_.

Something had caught up and was holding him, and _fuck_ , Bucky didn’t want to die. He lashed out at it, swinging his arms wildly, hoping to catch it off guard and get it off.

‘Leave me alone!’ Bucky cried, kicking out behind him. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be expecting Bucky to fight with his feet as well, and made a gentle _"oof"_ sound as his foot connected.

And then... Joseph was talking to him. No, not Joseph. ‘Bucky,’ his voice was quiet, gentle. ‘Bucky, wake up. It’s just a dream, Buck.’

_It’s just a dream._ Bucky’s eyes flew open and he jolted in shock, going from lying in his bed, to standing and being across the room in one swift, fluid motion. ‘Where am I?’

‘New York,’ said Joseph – _no, this one wasn’t Joseph._ ‘Bucky, are you okay?’

‘Don’t,’ Bucky gasped. _Shit, not another one._ He wrapped his arms around his chest and sunk into a crouch. ‘Just a dream,’ he mumbled. _It’s okay, this isn’t the year of Joseph. Steve isn’t him._

‘Bucky, can I -’

‘Please don’t speak,’ Bucky interrupted. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

Bucky thought he must be looking crazy right now, hunched over, muttering to himself. Steve, thankfully, seemed to know to keep his distance, and followed Bucky’s request to stay quiet. The last thing he needed right now was Steve trying to comfort him through _another_ panic attack.

Bucky didn’t know how long this one took to get under control, but it felt like less time than the last. Then again, last time, it had been much worse. This was... much longer ago than the sixties. Ben was still a very raw memory for Bucky.

‘What time is it?’ Bucky asked quietly, pretty sure Steve was still awake.

Sure enough, ‘It’s just gone three.’

‘Fuck,’ Bucky sighed. ‘Can you get me some water? I have a cup in my bathroom already.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Steve said, standing from where he had been sitting on Bucky’s bed, and making his way to the bathroom. He returned a few seconds later with the cup and knelt down in front of Bucky. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks,’ Bucky murmured, taking the water and sipping slowly.

‘Do you want to get up?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay,’ Steve took the cup from Bucky and placed it on his nightstand, before gently offering his hand to Bucky to help him to stand. Bucky’s legs must’ve been cramping up something evil, but in his panic, he seemed to have barely noticed. ‘Are you okay for contact?’

Bucky nodded. ‘Just let me get back into bed first.’

‘Sure, yeah,’ Steve nodded, letting Bucky go so they could get back into their sides of the bed. ‘May I?’

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ Bucky confirmed. ‘Well. Not good.’

‘I know,’ Steve said, scooting closer and lightly putting his arm across him, finding one of Bucky’s hands and tentatively holding it. ‘When I have one, I’m the same.’

‘One what? Nightmare?’

‘Mm. Not a nightmare as much as a memory back to haunt me. I figure it’s better to be overcautious and establish boundaries, rather than charging right in there.’

‘Thank you,’ Bucky said quietly, squeezing Steve’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I woke you.’

‘Don’t worry about it, I’d rather you woke me than you went through it by yourself.’

‘I usually do.’

‘Usually?’

‘Well... pretty much always.’

‘How often does this happen?’

‘More often than I’d like, believe me.’

Steve wriggled closer, plastering himself to Bucky’s back. ‘Then I’m sorry for whatever it is that happened.’

‘Not your fault,’ Bucky mumbled. ‘Nothing you can do to stop it.’

‘Maybe not, but I can be there in the aftermath.’

Bucky sighed and allowed himself to relax at that, at least for the moment. He knew Steve would always be there, until he wasn’t.

And then he would just become something else that made Bucky wake up with tears on his face.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t talk about it when they woke up. Steve was a little gentler with Bucky than usual, but he probably wasn’t doing it knowingly. Steve was just too inherently  _good._

Their alarms went off together at 5:30am, which Steve turned off instantly. Maybe he had never gone to sleep. Bucky had been too exhausted to stay awake, but from the darkness under Steve’s eyes, he thought maybe Steve had decided to be awake in case Bucky woke up again.

‘Did you get any sleep last night?’ Bucky asked, taking the mug of coffee Steve handed him. They had just come back from their run with Sam, and Steve’s first move was to make _Bucky_ coffee. ‘After the... thing.’

Steve shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘Steve, you don’t need to. This isn’t new, I’ve been dealing with this for longer than you think.’

‘I know,’ Steve sighed. ‘It just makes me feel kinda helpless.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Bucky said, trying his best to give Steve a comforting smile. ‘I’m okay, really.’

‘I just wish there was a way I could help you.’

‘Steve, look. This thing between us is pretty new, I don’t even know if we’re officially dating or just friends or _what’s_ going on, but you can’t get into something with me and think you can magically find a way to my undo years of fucked up situations, okay? You’ll just end up disappointed that you can’t and get frustrated. It always happens.’

Bucky put his mug down on the table and walked over to where Steve was still standing against the bench beside the coffee maker. He picked up Steve’s hand and lightly ran his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. ‘I’m not okay, Steve. I’m okay, but I’m not, and you can’t really change that. Please just accept that, and stop beating yourself up for not being able to fight off my nightmares.’

‘I just want to help,’ Steve said quietly, keeping his eyes on their hands.

‘I know you do, Steve. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I don’t think you could _ever_ do a bad thing to me, or anyone else for that matter,’ Bucky lifted his hand and pressed his lips to Steve’s hand. ‘I’m just saying you can’t change it and you can’t stop it, so please just... let it go. You can be there for me, but you can’t stop it.’

‘I don’t like seeing anyone be hurt,’ Steve said, looking up and searching Bucky’s eyes for something. Whatever it was he was after, he didn’t find it, and sighed as he lifted his unoccupied hand to Bucky’s cheek, letting it linger for a moment before he dropped it. ‘I don’t like seeing _you_ be hurt.’

Bucky smiled sadly. ‘It’s something you might have to get used to, I’m afraid.’

 

* * *

 

Steve hated it.

Watching Bucky move so fast into a position he had evidently taken enough times for it to become something of a second nature, then tremble as he seemed to be desperately trying to hold himself together... It had shocked Steve first. Then the concern had taken over and he’d gone into Mother Hen mode.

He had dozed, not slept. He was always partly conscious of keeping his hand and Bucky’s together, like it would fend off whatever Bucky had been fighting. Steve had woken up whenever Bucky so much as twitched. Though it was stupid and, he felt, something of a cliché, it was like he was drawn to Bucky and had known him for much longer than the mere couple of weeks it had actually been.

He wanted to protect Bucky, but he figured it would be a little difficult to do if the adversaries he was facing were in Bucky’s head. He didn’t have as much experience there as he did in other circumstances.

Then Bucky went and said he shouldn’t really bother trying to stop, or _help_ , with his nightmares, and it hurt him a little. That Bucky was so resigned to dealing with something that was clearly as traumatic as whatever was tormenting him was a painful thought for Steve. He didn’t want to see Bucky hurting.

He knew he couldn’t fix Bucky, God knows he understood that because he was dealing with the same sort of thing, but that didn’t mean he could stop himself from trying. Steve was a little bit broken, too. He couldn’t judge Bucky, he couldn’t stop him from hurting, but he could do his best to ease the pain.

And pushing Bucky into a relationship he might not be ready for was not something Steve was willing to do. He would let Bucky dictate their speed – and so far, he’d said _slow_. Steve was okay with that. If it was what Bucky needed, Steve was more than happy to oblige.

So far, their relationship had consisted of running, bloody knees, drinking in an effort to make friends, and last night’s pizza and movies at Bucky’s apartment. If this was slow, then Steve thought more people should do it. Pizza was good for the soul, and you really got to figure someone out by their favourite toppings. (Bucky was mildly disgusted to discover Steve’s fondness for pineapple.)

While Steve had slept over last night, it was purely because they decided he might’ve been a little too inebriated to go home. He borrowed a pair of pyjama pants from Bucky and politely declined a shirt as well, which really, Bucky didn’t mind in the slightest. They had shared a chaste, goodnight kiss, and all touching had been kept distinctly above the belt.

Apart from one brief incident where Steve lightly stroked Bucky’s thigh as he rolled over to spoon him, and didn’t seem entirely conscious of having happened. Bucky decided to just savour the moment as it happened, then bring it up the next morning and give him shit for it.

Instead, they ended up having the _“if it’s broke, don’t try to fix it”_ talk. Bucky hadn’t been anticipating having that conversation _quite_ as soon as it had happened, but oh well. Better to warn Steve of what he was getting into sooner rather than later. Bucky supposed now he was giving Steve a chance to get away from him, to _survive_ , but fucking _Steve_. Always the understanding one.

However, as cautious and caring as Steve was, he was also a pretty curious guy.

And there was one thing he was very interested to find out.

It was later that day they were eating leftover pizza and watching some lame movie from Bucky’s collection when Steve decided to bring it up. Very, _very_ carefully.

‘So I was wondering…’ Steve started, glancing to Bucky to gauge his reaction. He hadn’t moved.

‘Uh huh…’ Bucky said, sucking his fingers clean of pizza grease.

‘You said a few days ago about your last boyfriend…’

‘Uh huh…’

‘That he died.’

Bucky swallowed audibly and pulled his feet under himself. He had known this would pop up, of course. ‘What about him?’

‘Am I allowed to ask?’

Bucky shrugged. ‘His name was Ben. Tiny and blond, killed in action.’

‘Military guy?’ Steve asked, surprised.

‘Yeah, army,’ Bucky said quietly. ‘He had only been overseas a few months. First tour.’

‘Oh man, I’m so sorry, Bucky. If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked.’

‘It’s okay. It was a few years ago.’

Steve, hating seeing people hurt, decided to try to make a joke of the situation. ‘I guess you have a type, then.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Blond and an army guy,’ Steve raised an eyebrow, hoping this wouldn’t fall flat and be seen as tasteless.

Thank God, Bucky huffed a laugh and knocked their shoulders together. ‘Oh, you have no idea.’

‘Hey, uh, Sam’s having a house party next weekend. You wanna go together?’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky nodded. ‘I’d like that.’

 

* * *

 

‘So, who’s the new person?’ Sarah asked, watching her son hum happily as he worked the stove.

‘Hmm?’ Steve turned around, smiling innocently. ‘Who what?’

‘You’re humming, and you weren’t at home last night,’ Sarah raised her eyebrow and steepled her fingertips under her chin. ‘Who is it?’

‘Bucky,’ Steve sighed gently and turned back to the stove to pay attention to what he was doing before something caught fire. ‘The guy who fell over in the park.’

‘Ah, yes. You patched him up in my kitchen, didn’t you?’

‘I couldn’t let him get blood poisoning before I took him out for coffee, could I?’

‘And have you now taken him out for coffee?’

‘Yep.’

‘So are you saying it’s now okay for him to get blood poisoning?’

‘I mean…’ Steve drummed his fingers against the benchtop thoughtfully. ‘I’d prefer he didn’t. We haven’t –’

‘Okay, I’m your mother,’ Sarah reminded him. ‘Honesty is the best policy, but you don’t need to tell me, it’s fine. Just as long as you’re… y’know.’

‘Safe?’

‘Yes, so anyway, when do I get to meet him?’

‘Not sure,’ Steve shrugged. ‘We’re taking it slow. Really slow. His last boyfriend was kinda killed in action.’

‘Oh my,’ Sarah bit her lip and frowned. ‘Do you know how long ago?’

‘A few years. It seems like it’s still pretty raw for him.’

‘That’s very sad.’

‘It is,’ Steve agreed. ‘But I like him a lot, so if I need to give him time, then I’m happy to wait for him to be ready.’

‘Considerate.’

‘You raised me right.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Something clearly went wrong because I’m pretty sure your rice is burning in that pot.’

‘ _Shit!_ ’ Steve cried, grabbing the pot and putting it under the tap to add water.

‘Should’ve used the microwave.’

‘Yeah, thanks, _mom_.’

Sarah grinned. ‘You’re welcome, honey. At least tell me a little about him if I can’t meet him any time soon.’

Steve smiled and got a dopey look on his face, and Sarah almost regretted asking. ‘He’s a little shorter than me, dark hair long enough to put into a bun, and well… He works out.’

‘Aha. What’s he _like_ though, Steve?’

‘He’s very nice, a little stubborn, a little broken, I guess. He’s funny, and he’s sweet, and he’s a smartass.’

‘He sounds great, honey. I’m happy if you’re happy.’

‘I am. We haven’t really known each other that long, but I’m very comfortable with him, y’know? And Sam likes him, I think, so that should count for something.’

‘He does?’ Sarah asked. ‘Good, I trust his judgement.’

‘He invited us both to a thing at his house next week actually. Turns out he knows Peggy.’

‘The English girl you told me about?’

‘Yep.’

‘Small world,’ Sarah commented. ‘Is she in town?’

‘Yeah, apparently she lives here,’ Steve huffed in amusement as he stirred the rice. ‘It’s nice to be back in contact with her.’

‘Does _she_ like Bucky?’

‘She seems to, yeah. She’s one of my best friends, so I don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t.’

‘Hmm. Sounds like you’re going to need to host a dinner party so I can meet all these people, Steve.’

‘A dinner party?’ Steve repeated.

‘Fine,’ Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘Pizza and beer, whatever. I like being kept in the loop!’

‘Maybe. But if you embarrass me, I’m not letting you meet anyone ever again.’

‘Okay, deal,’ Sarah nodded, standing and heading down the hall.

‘Where are you going?’ Steve asked. ‘Dinner is almost done!’

‘I’m just digging up your baby photos, be right back!’

 

* * *

 

**_Peggy:_ ** _good morning! how are you?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _…is this for me?_

**_Peggy:_ ** _if this is bucky, yes. otherwise, yes, but i'm not really interested in your answer._

**_Bucky:_ ** _oh… yeah this is bucky. i'm okay? thanks? how are u?_

**_Peggy:_ ** _i'm fine, thank you._

**_Peggy:_ ** _just wanted to say that while it’s all your business, steve doesn’t take lightly to people who hide things and lie to him._

**_Bucky:_ ** _i'm sorry?_

**_Peggy:_ ** _i could be mistaken, but i rarely am. i don’t know what it is, i don’t need to know, but if it’s something big, you need to tell steve before you get in too deep together and he finds out._

**_Bucky:_ ** _uh… thanks. i'll keep that in mind._

**_Bucky:_ ** _why do u think i'm hiding something?_

**_Peggy:_ ** _i know what people are like, and you have something to you when you look at steve. it's like you’re not entirely seeing him when you look at him, and it seems like there’s something substantial within you that’s giving it such a weight._

**_Peggy:_ ** _i could be mistaken, but as i said, that’s not something that happens often. it might be completely unimportant, but if it could hurt steve in the long run, you should tell him._

**_Bucky:_ ** _i've known steve for about 3 weeks, i'm not gonna share my deepest darkest secrets right now._

**_Peggy:_ ** _no, and that’s fair enough. just… if he feels like you’re hiding something, he won’t be happy when it’s proved._

**_Peggy:_ ** _i'm not going to say anything to him, before you ask._

**_Peggy:_ ** _but if you need someone to talk to, i'm here._

**_Bucky:_ ** _u seem very nice but i've met u once. idk how i could trust u, no offence._

**_Peggy:_ ** _keeping secrets is my job, bucky. you would be safe with me._

**_Bucky:_ ** _i'll think about it. thanks, peggy._

**_Peggy:_ ** _you’re welcome :)_

 

* * *

 

Bucky was _drunk_. Like, _so_ drunk.

Steve was equally as drunk, though he didn’t seem to be doing as great a job of hiding it as Bucky was. Bucky had spent his fair share of time building up a tolerance for alcohol, but he had downed most of a bottle of vodka, some wine, a bunch of beers, and some other… things. He didn’t know what it was, but someone offered it to him with an enthusiastic, _“it has alcohol in it!”_ and Bucky had thrown it down the hatch without a second thought. Bucky was now feeling slightly sick as a consequence.

Poor Steve, though. He’d only had a few beers before he was done for, and there was really nothing Bucky could do for him apart from be the drunker, yet still very coherent guardian of his friend. Boyfriend? Jogging buddy? Occasional hand warmer? They’d really have to sort out titles. (Bucky was about 60% sure that he and Steve had agreed the term _boyfriend_ was what they were going for, but really, he couldn’t remember while he was this drunk.)

Bucky was delighted to discover that Steve was a happy drunk, but it was a little weird to see a guy of Steve’s… stature sitting on a beanbag, giggling to himself. Bucky decided to take Steve under his wing and sober him up a little, though that would be difficult when the alcohol actually fully hit him, too.

‘Steve, water,’ Bucky said, tugging on his hand. ‘Get up.’

‘No!’ Steve whined. ‘Someone will steal my spot!’

Bucky pouted and tugged on him again. ‘You need to drink water.’

‘Pssht,’ Steve shook his head and yanked on Bucky’s hand, ending up with Bucky sitting on him in the bean bag as well. ‘I’d rather have the boom bug.’

‘Bean bag?’

‘Mhmm,’ Steve grinned. ‘That.’

‘You are very drunk.’

‘Yep,’ Steve nodded. He started to giggle again, and shit, apparently the alcohol hit Bucky full force at that moment, because he joined in, and they became a giggling, drunk mess.

Bucky didn’t really remember much of the night after that.

 

* * *

 

Peggy had a lot of experience dealing with men who thought they knew better than she did. They were, of course, mostly idiots, but she knew how to handle them.

She had less experience dealing with men who had turned into drunk toddlers, but that’s where she was at. Sam had seen her about to leave and had politely asked her if she knew what the hell to do with Steve and Bucky. They had claimed the bean bag, and were sitting in the corner on it, snickering to themselves, with the occasional intermission for making out and consuming more alcohol. Sam didn’t think it would be a good idea to have them at his party much longer, because he had a feeling they would just keep on drinking and end up vomiting in the antique vase his mom had given him as a house warming gift.

Peggy, ultimately, agreed. The only thing she wasn’t too sure on was what to do with them once she had removed them from Sam’s apartment. God knows she didn’t want to dump these two man-babies on Steve’s poor mother, and Peggy also didn’t know where Bucky lived, so she couldn’t drop them off there… Besides, the state they were in, they would probably need a babysitter of some form.

So she sighed and reluctantly agreed to take them to her apartment. She had a spare room with a bed already made up, she could just take them to her house and let them sleep it off and sober up.

This, however, still left a question unanswered of how the hell she was actually going to deal with them.

Clint, however, offered to help Peggy get them to her apartment, having heard the conversation as he walked past. Despite that he was usually one for a party, he was also a gentleman, and was more than happy to lend a hand. (He also had an early appointment the next day, but he was content to let them think he was just being courteous.)

When the taxi arrived to take them to Peggy’s apartment, Clint and Sam loaded the two drunk (and still giggling) men into the backseat, making sure they were safely buckled in. Clint took the front seat next to the driver, and Peggy wormed her way into the back with the other two.

That wasn’t exactly easy to do, because they were squirming like children, and were also taking up most of the space. As Peggy attempted to get her seatbelt in, she accidentally grazed Steve’s ass with the back of her hand. While that didn’t really bother her (honestly, she’d seen him _naked_ on more than one occasion and things weren’t weird), what did bother her slightly was Steve’s dramatic reaction.

‘Bucky! My boyfriendy!’ Steve gasped. ‘Peggy touched _my butt_.’

‘She touched your butt before me?’ Bucky asked, actually seeming quite distressed by the suggestion. ‘I wanna touch it!’

‘You can’t,’ Steve shook his head seriously. ‘It’s claimed now. By Peggy. She touched it first.’

‘Peggy! How could you?’

‘Quite easily, with the way you two are sliding around like eels in a bucket,’ Peggy muttered.

‘Sure you’ll be okay with them by yourself?’ Clint asked, turning around from the front.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Peggy nodded. ‘I’ve dealt with worse.’

The rest of the trip was spent with Peggy and Clint in silence, and Steve and Bucky still periodically giggling and making out. It was kind of cute, in the same kind of way that snails sitting on top of each other is cute. You can’t quite describe why, and there’s a lot of slime (or in this case, saliva) involved.

Peggy and Clint managed to get Steve and Bucky upstairs a lot easier than expected. They had become quite pliant, and most of the trip in the elevator up to Peggy’s floor was spent with Steve twirling his finger in her hair, and with Bucky poking Clint’s face and smiling dopily at him.

As they got them both inside Peggy’s apartment, they made their own way towards her couch, walking not entirely unlike zombies.

‘No, not the couch,’ Peggy said, hauling Steve back up off her couch and towards her spare room. ‘There are too many things in this room I don’t trust you not to touch.’

‘Pssht,’ Steve rolled his eyes and started playing with her hair again as she half-carried him down the hallway. ‘I would _never_.’

‘Never what?’

‘Never ever.’

‘Right, of course,’ Peggy deadpanned, flicking on the light of her spare room and helping Steve get onto the bed, pulling off his shoes as he collapsed onto his front and sighed happily. ‘Clint?’

‘Coming,’ Clint called. ‘My drunk is a little less cooperative than yours.’

‘Why, what’s he doing?’ Peggy asked, going back down the hallway to discover Clint watching helplessly as Bucky serenaded one of her potted succulents. ‘What the hell is he singing?’

‘And they say that a hero could save us, I’m not gonna stand here and wait!’ Bucky sang loudly, stroking the plant tenderly. ‘I’ll hold on to the wings of the eagles, and watch as they all fly away!’

‘Nickelback, I believe,’ Clint commented.

‘Bucky,’ Peggy said soothingly. ‘Can you stop singing to my plant?’

‘It likes it,’ Bucky replied. ‘Do you like that? Do you like that? There’s a fine line between love and hate and I don’t mind, just let me say that I like that, I like that!’

‘Clint?’

‘No idea, honestly,’ Clint shrugged. ‘Bucky, my guy, time to sleep?’

‘Where’s Steeb?’

‘Steeb?’

‘The big blondie man I was mackin’ on earlier,’ Bucky winked, letting his hands drop to his sides from Peggy’s plant.

‘He’s in bed,’ Peggy said, unable to stop herself from smiling. Bucky seemed so proud of his having made out with Steve. ‘Do you want to go join him?’

‘I think that would be best,’ Bucky nodded sagely, allowing Clint to lead him down the hall, followed closely by Peggy.

Once Clint had dropped Bucky onto the bed with Steve, he stood back beside Peggy and raised an eyebrow at her incredulously. ‘Sure you can handle these two?’

‘Positive,’ Peggy nodded. ‘They just need to sleep it off.’

‘Better hope that doesn’t come with much vomit.’

‘Steve doesn’t throw up when he’s drunk, trust me, I know.’

‘Well that sounds super.’ Clint pulled his phone out to check the time. ‘Shit, gotta get going. Taxi meter is still running. Call me if you need anything.’

‘I will, thank you, Clint,’ Peggy smiled, following him to her front door and reaching into her bag to give him a few notes. ‘That should cover our fare, and yours, too. Thank you for your help.’

‘No problem. Good luck, Peg,’ he said, saluting her as he shut the door behind himself.

But Peggy was fine, of course she was. By the time she had got two buckets (just in case this was the one time Steve proved her wrong) and two glasses of water, then gone to deliver them to her spare room, both of them had passed out. That made her job a lot easier, so she just carefully placed the buckets next to either man, and put the water on the nightstands beside the bed, and closed the door gently.

Problem solved, she went to bed.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky woke up, his initial thought was _“Where the fuck am I?”_ which was quickly followed up by _“Why the fuck am I naked?”_ but then he looked around the room and noticed the sleeping man beside him, and things fell into place.

‘Shit,’ Bucky muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and sighing as he assessed the damage to his body.

Headache: definitely there, but not terrible. Mouth tasted like ass (oh God). Didn’t smell that great. Stomach… stiff? Butt… sore. _Damn._ He looked over to Steve, and sighed again. Bucky didn’t usually bottom, but he must’ve had a good time last night, because if he was willing to let anyone top him, Steve was pretty much the entire list.

_Fuck._ That brought up another problem.

God knew that Bucky wanted to be with Steve like that. He did, he really did. Just… not yet. That was the first step of many that would send this entire thing spiralling out of control, and end with Steve fucking _dead_. While he and Steve had had non-physical relationships that ultimately ended the same way in earlier lives, he had known this wouldn’t be one. He wasn’t sad about it, he was just dreading how fast that would make this relationship progress. Fucking fuck. They were so screwed.

Bucky had to leave. He needed to sort his thoughts before Steve –

‘Buck?’ Steve mumbled, turning over and cracking an eye open to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg half into his jeans. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Home,’ Bucky muttered. ‘Sorry.’

‘Why?’ Steve asked. ‘What… Oh.’

‘Yeah, “oh”.’

‘Did we..?’

‘Pretty sure.’

Steve sighed and wriggled closer to Bucky, putting his hand gently on Bucky’s arm. ‘I’m sorry if it upset you or something. If it was too fast and you regret it. I know you wanted to go slow, but… Alcohol impaired judgement.’

‘I know,’ Bucky said, standing up to find wherever the fuck his shirt had gone. ‘It’s just…’ Well. Bucky didn’t exactly _regret_ it. Just where it was going. ‘I know exactly where this is going, and I’m not quite ready for it. Not so soon after Ben.’ _Nice bullshit, Bucky._

‘I’m sorry,’ Steve said again. ‘We can hold off until you’re ready.’

‘This isn’t something you need to apologise for, Steve,’ Bucky sighed. ‘It’s not something _bad_ , it’s not something that’s _hurt_ me. It’s just not something I was prepared for, exactly.’

‘Well, next time, I promise we’ll both be completely sober and aware of what we’re doing.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘Do you still need to go?’ Steve asked. ‘I don’t think Peggy would mind if we sort of… wallowed in shame a little longer.’

‘Who says we’re wallowing in shame?’

‘I get the feeling we weren’t exactly quiet. Otherwise Peg would’ve probably at least come to wake us by now.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, she knows I’m not a huge fan of sleeping in too late.’

‘Shit,’ Bucky said, flopping backwards onto the bed. ‘I’m making the walk of shame in ten minutes, okay?’

‘She’ll try to feed you as you leave,’ Steve smiled, now worming his way towards Bucky. ‘She makes great pancakes.’

‘Yeah, but this isn’t a bed and breakfast, and I think she’s been hospitable enough towards us.’

‘Mm, probably,’ Steve agreed, tracing his finger over Bucky’s chest. ‘What’s this?’

‘What’s what?’ Bucky asked, looking at the thin line on his shoulder Steve had paused on. _Oh, right._ Bucky hadn’t found his fucking shirt yet, so that meant every single scar he had ever managed to get on his chest was now visible to Steve.

‘This scar. How’d you get it?’

_Stabbed, sometime around 1810._ ‘A particularly brutal papercut.’

‘And this?’ Steve asked, pointing to an almost entirely faded bullet wound on his upper arm.

_Somewhere in France, 1944._ ‘Ah, well. That was after I got stabbed with a pen.’ _Great, good job, excellent lie._ ‘Ink kills, you know. Everything you’ve ever heard is true.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt,’ Steve laughed. ‘What about this one? You have a lot of scars, I’m actually confused how you’re still alive.’

‘If I told you what every single scar was from, we’d be here for at least half an hour.’

Steve grinned. ‘Okay.’

In between Steve’s comments, and Bucky taking short pauses to think of covers so ridiculous that Steve wouldn’t question them, they were there for almost an hour.


	4. A Story of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, this chapter makes me sad. apologies in advance oops.

Things between Steve and Bucky had progressed well, after they accidentally slept together. That wasn’t the reason _why_ , and as much as Bucky was trying to stall it happening again, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep it up. Bucky had had dry spells longer than Steve (or his mom) had been alive, so a few months wasn’t going to matter too much to him. Except, this was _Steve_. He couldn’t say for sure he was falling for him yet, but he knew that once it happened, it would come on strong and fast, and his life would be heady with _Steve_.

The man himself was very understanding about the whole bullshit spiel Bucky had given him about it being “too soon”, and he could tell that although Steve was dying slightly, he was more than happy to do it. Besides, their relationship wasn’t suffering, so there probably wouldn’t be too much harm in holding off. (Bucky was diligently ignoring the part of him that was screaming he was wasting time by not spending every spare moment in bed with Steve.)

As it turned out, it gave them time to actually learn things about each other. Steve seemed to enjoy that, and while Bucky made up most of it on the fly (based off real details so he wouldn’t fuck over his own story, of course), Steve was content with where they were at, and so, Bucky was, too.

 

* * *

 

**_Mom:_ ** _Steven, I know you’re with that boy of yours._

**_Steve:_ ** _yeah and??_

**_Mom:_ ** _Steven, you are going to tell that boy he’s coming to my house for dinner tomorrow._

**_Steve:_ ** _mom no why_

**_Mom:_ ** _It has been nearly three months since you told me you were dating, and also I still haven’t met Peggy. They’re both coming for dinner, and so is Sam._

**_Steve:_ ** _mom no_

**_Steve:_ ** _not yet_

**_Mom:_ ** _Steven Grant Rogers, so help me God, you will bring them all tomorrow._

**_Steve:_ ** _or what you’ll ground me??_

**_Mom:_ ** _Yes, I will ground you._

**_Steve:_ ** _mom i'm nearly 30 and i'm twice your size you literally can’t control me_

**_Mom:_ ** _You should’ve thought of that before you moved back in to my house. Dinner. Tomorrow. Seven o’clock._

**_Steve:_ ** _yes mom._

‘Everything okay?’ Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow as Steve locked his phone and tossed it across the room into one of the armchairs.

‘No.’

‘What’s up?’

‘My mom wants you and Peggy over for dinner tomorrow,’ Steve explained. ‘She thinks it’s been too long between me telling her I was dating, and her mothering my partner.’

‘Partner?’

‘In the broadest sense of the word, but is that _all_ you got out of that?’

‘No, I got something about free food,’ Bucky shrugged. ‘I’m in.’

‘What?’ Steve said. ‘Why?’

‘Why not? I want to meet your mom.’

‘Don’t you think it’s too soon? We’ve only been dating a few months.’

Bucky huffed. ‘Sure, Jan.’

‘What?’

‘Three months is not a short amount of time. I know people who got married after less than three months of knowing each other, and meanwhile, _I_ still haven’t met your mom. Family is important, Steve. It’s not too soon.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No, stop being a baby.’

‘Fine,’ Steve grumped. ‘I’ll text Peggy. But when do I get to meet _your_ mom, then?’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘My family is dead. I’m all alone.’

‘Oh my God, Bucky, I’m –’

‘It’s okay, really. I’ve been on my own for a long time, Steve. I’m used to it.’

‘You shouldn’t be used to being alone,’ Steve mumbled, pulling Bucky closer into his side, resting his head on top of Bucky’s.

‘Yeah, well. That’s why family is important. I don’t have any, so I have strong opinions about them, and first on the list is that you keep them in the loop and introduce people that are important to _you_ to _them_.’ Bucky looked up at Steve and frowned. ‘I mean, I like to think I’m important to you, and I _know_ Peggy is.’

‘Of course you’re important to me, Buck. Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Good, and I want to meet your mom, so please inform her that I would love to have dinner.’

Steve let out a heavy sigh, but he could tell that this was important to Bucky (who might actually have been right – nothing like a long wait to meet to build up resentment). Steve just tucked Bucky back under his chin and slid them into a slightly more reclined position, and said, ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah.’

Bucky lifted his head again to kiss Steve’s jaw quickly, before ducking back into the crook of his neck. ‘You’re such a pushover.’

‘Yeah, and I’m _your_ pushover.’

‘Good, then go make me coffee.’

 

* * *

 

‘So, Bucky,’ Sarah said, spooning some spaghetti onto Steve’s plate. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

‘What would you like to know?’ Bucky asked, spinning his fork into his own pile of spaghetti. ‘There’s not much to know.’

‘How about you start with where you were born? What your parents do?’

‘Mom, I told you –’ Steve began, before stopping midsentence after Bucky waved dismissively at him.

‘It’s fine. Uh, I was born in Russia, actually, moved here when I was a teenager. My parents died when I was nineteen, and I don’t have any other family, so I’ve pretty much been alone since then, I guess.’

‘Steve mentioned you had a boyfriend pass a few years ago, and I’m so sorry for what you must have gone through. It’s not an easy thing to lose someone you love,’ Sarah sighed. ‘But I guess what’s passed is past.’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky agreed quietly. ‘This is great pasta, by the way. Thank you for inviting us for dinner, even if it took some convincing to get Steve to let us come in the first place.’

‘Yes, _Steve_ ,’ Peggy said, kicking him under the table. ‘I would’ve loved to come sooner. Your mother promises she has some adorable baby pictures to show me later.’

‘No, _Mom_!’ Steve whined. ‘You said you wouldn’t!’

‘I said I wouldn’t show _Bucky_ , I never said anything about Peggy.’

‘Bucky wants to see,’ Bucky grinned. ‘Bucky _really_ wants to.’

‘Why does he do that third person thing?’ Sam asked no one in particular. ‘Why.’

‘Reasons,’ Bucky replied. ‘I’m an orphan. You wouldn’t pick on an _orphan._ ’

‘Dude, you’re like, thirty. I think you can handle it,’ Sam said, giving him a sarcastic double thumbs up.

‘So in other news,’ Steve said loudly, distracting everyone from their separate commentaries. ‘I’m going down to D.C in a few weeks.’

‘Why?’ Sam asked suspiciously. ‘Are you…’

‘I have enough medals,’ Steve shook his head. ‘A bunch of my guys are getting back and going to get their own, so I’m off to witness it and check in on them. We might not be in the war anymore, but I’m still their Captain.’

‘Aw, Stevie, that’s so thoughtful,’ Sarah smiled. ‘How long will you be gone for?’

‘Probably about four or five days. I have a couple of other things to do.’

‘Sounds mysterious,’ Peggy noted.

‘Sounds like trouble,’ Bucky said. ‘You’re not doing anything _naughty_ , are you, Rogers?’

‘I would _never_.’

‘Uh huh. Bring me back a t-shirt or something.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

 

* * *

 

Peggy, Sam, and Bucky all left Steve’s house around the same time that night, with  _someone_ receiving a more enthusiastic and dramatic goodbye than the others. (Sam was miming holding back vomit the entire time, and Peggy allowed her eyes to drift away.)

After the door had swung shut, Steve started gathering cups, and headed to the kitchen to help his mother with washing and drying the dishes. He picked up the towel, and they started making their way through the (fairly sizeable) pile in silence.

‘I like him,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Bucky.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Steve agreed. ‘He’s a good guy.’

‘I think he has a lot of pain within him that he hasn’t dealt with yet, but I think you’ll be good for him, just like he’s good for you.’

‘So he has the seal of approval?’

‘He does,’ Sarah nodded. ‘Peggy, too. She is _excellent_.’

Steve grinned and put a few dried plates back in the cupboard. ‘That she is. And all her family is overseas, so you can adopt her for holidays.’

‘I would love to! I’ve always lamented that you turned out to be a boy. I would’ve liked a daughter.’

‘Allow me to apologise, then.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Sarah said, flicking a clump of bubbles at him. ‘I’m very proud of the person you turned out to be, Stevie.’

‘Thanks, mom.’

They were quiet for a little while, until most of the dishes had been done, and Sarah had put the last pot on the rack to dry. ‘So, D.C., huh?’

‘Yep.’

‘What are you going to be doing?’

‘A few guys are –’

‘Yes, I heard that,’ she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the bench. ‘What else are you doing? You’re up to something.’

Steve sighed and nodded towards a pile of mail on the table. ‘I got a letter a couple of days ago.’

‘Oh?’

‘They want to give me a job. I think it’s in black ops, or some kind of intelligence thing, I don’t know.’

‘Are you going to take it?’ Sarah asked.

Steve bit his lip and shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want to go back. Not yet, at least. I can’t.’

Sarah softened her stance and took the dish towel from Steve’s hands. ‘I know, honey. Did you tell Bucky?’

‘It’s not the sort of thing I want to dump on him. He has enough issues like this of his own.’

‘Maybe that’s why you _should_ tell him. He might understand better than anyone.’

‘He hasn’t seen the things I’ve seen, Mom,’ Steve said quietly.

‘Maybe you should talk to Sam, then.’

Steve huffed a laugh. ‘I have. I do. He knows, and he gets it, and that’s the only reason I can go outside, is because Sam talked with me about it, and about what _he_ saw, and… I don’t know. In any case, he helped.’

‘I told you, didn’t I?’ she smiled softly. ‘Go to bed, or go see Bucky, or _something_. I’ll finish up here.’

‘Mom, I’m okay –’

‘Steven, go away, it’s fine.’

Steve rolled his eyes, but conceded, and left the kitchen to go and take a shower. He needed the time to think.

Did he need to tell Bucky this? What the hell would he even say? Actually, rephrase that. What would _Sam_ want him to say? He’d do the whole feelings thing, and while Steve appreciated it was probably the better idea, he didn’t like to dump his problems on other people.

Steve’s motions were mechanical as he got his things to go have a shower, and he somehow found himself so caught up in his own head, that he climbed into the tub, fully undressed, without even realising how he got there.

That still left him with the unresolved issue of what he would say to Bucky, if he even decided he was going to _mention_ it.

_“Oh, hey, Buck. Guess what? The Government wants me to do shady shit and send me off to risk my life again. Yeah, I know, freedom and whatever, but I probably have PTSD from the last time, even though I won’t let Sam call it that.”_ End with a big grin and thumbs up. That should do it.

Fucking hell.

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. What would the point be of telling Bucky if he wasn’t going to do it? Bucky would probably worry that even the _suggestion_ of it was freaking him out. The things Steve had seen, the things he had _done_ , would give people nightmares. Well. They certainly gave _him_ nightmares.

But Steve was still in the shower, and had apparently started washing himself. God, he was so stuck in the motions of doing all this shit. He needed to focus, before he somehow found himself back in his room without knowing how he got there.

Steve paused in the scrubbing of his left arm, and looked at the faint scars there. They had been so much worse, once. Ugly, pink welts that marked his shoulder, his bicep, his chest.

Steve could still see it.

_The blood was running down his arm as the medics got his gear off and cut his shirt, pressing lap pads onto the wounds to stem the bleeding._

_‘We need to get him into surgery,’ one of the doctors said. ‘He’s going to bleed out.’_

_‘I’m not going to bleed out,’ Steve said, clenching his fists as a nurse put a tray of tools next to his bed. ‘Just get the fucking things out and stitch me up.’_

_‘Captain Rogers, I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.’_

_‘And_ I _don’t think_ you _understand it, either. There are people worse off than me, just get the shrapnel outta my damn arm!’_

_‘I need to –’_

_‘Respectfully, Doc, just fucking do it.’_

_The doctor dithered for a moment, before she sighed and said, ‘Fine, I need anaesthetic.’_

_‘Don’t bother, I can take it,’ Steve gritted his teeth. ‘Dig it out.’_

_The doctor rolled her eyes, but nodded and took a pair of forceps from the nurse. ‘Steve, why the fuck are you always so gung-ho about this shit?’_

_‘Because I can be,’ Steve attempted a grin as the doctor started to remove bits of shrapnel from his arm and drop them in a small tray beside her. ‘And because I love to see your face when I come back in here.’_

_‘Uh huh, you should probably not make a habit of it.’_

_‘I’m only here for the ladies, you know that, Laura,’ Steve winked and cried out as the doctor put the forceps into the wound containing the largest piece of metal, moving around until she grabbed onto the offending item and pulled it out._

_‘It’s a pity you’re gay,’ Laura said, as if nothing had happened. ‘You wanna keep this?’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘Let’s name it,’ Laura dropped the bullet into the dish and gave back the forceps, as she began cleaning out the wound._

_‘I’d rather not, thanks,’ Steve replied, teeth still gritted tightly, as he looked down at his arm, the blood beginning to dry, and pool on the bed beside him._

It wasn’t the first time Steve had been shot, it wasn’t the last, and it wasn’t the worst, either. But his mom didn’t know that. Sam didn’t know that. _Bucky_ didn’t know that.

No one did, because Steve didn’t like to bother people with his problems.

 

* * *

 

‘Are you okay?’

Steve looked up from his mug to see Peggy standing over him, a paper cup in her own hand. ‘I’m fine, why? What are you doing here?’

‘Sam told me you like Starbucks now. This is the closest one to your apartment, and you’ve been ignoring my calls,’ Peggy sat down opposite him at the table he had commandeered. ‘So. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing is wrong.’

‘You’re a terrible liar, Steve.’

‘I’ve been told.’

Peggy sighed and set her sunglasses into her hair, cocking her head slightly as she took in Steve’s posture. ‘I can read you like a book, Steve. You know I won’t judge you.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Steve sighed and stirred the foam through his hot chocolate, setting the spoon on the plate of his cup. ‘I’ve been offered a job.’

‘Oh? Isn’t that a good thing? You’re acting like someone just kicked your puppy.’

‘It’s doing military things.’

‘What _kind_ of military thing?’ Peggy asked, sipping her own drink slowly.

‘Like… Elite taskforce, top secret kinda stuff, I think. Probably. All they said was _taskforce_ , but I have an interview with them when I go down to D.C.’

Peggy narrowed her eyes and hummed thoughtfully. ‘You’re not taking it.’

‘No.’

‘Even though they specifically asked you.’

‘Yes.’

‘You, the honourable man, who does things for the American equivalent of Queen and Country?’

‘Yes. The country has called, and I am hanging up on them,’ Steve shook his head. ‘I can’t do it again, Peg. Not yet. Maybe not ever.’

‘Do they know you got shot?’ Peggy asked quietly. ‘Sarah? Sam? Bucky? Have you told any of them?’

‘No, and that’s how it’s going to stay. Sam thinks I’m screwed up enough without adding bullets to the mix.’

‘Still got that one in your shoulder?’

‘Do _you_?’

Peggy smiled. ‘We’re not talking about me.’

‘No, and we’re not talking about me, either,’ Steve muttered. ‘I can’t do it, Peggy. There’s no shortage of great and _brave_ men who would do it. I don’t understand why they want me.’

‘I do,’ Peggy said immediately. ‘You’re Captain Steven Rogers. You have more medals than I have fingers, your leadership skills are miles above anyone else, you’re fearless in the battlefield, you keep your cool under all circumstances, and you know something else?’

‘What.’

‘You’re an exceptional man, Steve. You’re kind, you’re smart, there’s not a bad bone in your body. There are many brave men and _women_ in this country, but there’s only one of you. If I thought I had a chance with you, I would’ve locked you down years ago.’

‘So are you, Peg. Why didn’t they ask you to be on the team, then?’

‘My fighting days are over,’ Peggy snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘But they asked me to coordinate the program.’

‘What?’

‘It’s my team. I’m the behind the scenes head of things,’ Peggy sipped her drink as Steve processed this, opening his mouth to say something. ‘Oh, don’t get your pants in a bunch, Rogers. I didn’t recommend you for the team because I knew you’d say no.’

‘And yet.’

‘And yet,’ Peggy nodded. ‘Is that what’s got you in this mood? The job offer?’

Steve shrugged. ‘Just one thing of many smaller things.’

‘Which you’re not going to talk about?’

‘Nope.’

‘Okay,’ Peggy said. ‘I’ll just sit here with my coffee, and you can talk if you want to. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.’

‘Thanks, Peg.’

Peggy kicked him gently under the table. ‘What are friends for?’

 

* * *

 

Steve told Bucky not to bother going to the airport with him. Steve hated airports, and apparently didn’t want Bucky to suffer along with him. He had left Bucky’s apartment the night before with a gentle kiss, a promise to call when he landed in D.C., and to text updates throughout his time away. And, of course, call every night if he had time.

Bucky knew something was up that Steve wasn’t telling him, but it could’ve been Bucky’s slight paranoia that everyone was keeping secrets from him, even if the suggestions his brain threw out were completely ridiculous.

No, Steve was not visiting a secret child. He didn’t have a second family, he was just going away to meet up with some of his army friends, and support them as they got medals. He was there as a proud captain, and a proud friend.

That made Bucky remember _his_ army buddies. They should still be alive, if he calculated correctly. The most recent bunch, at least. Time sort of flew away from him between incarnations of Steve. From what he knew, his unit had gained some sort of cult following, more like notoriety, because of all the things they had done and seen. Where they had been during major events, what they had been through.

It made him curious. Steve wasn’t going to be here for a few days, so Bucky thought why _not_ see what they had gotten up to since they had last seen each other?

God, that had been over forty years ago, when they landed back on home soil after being in Vietnam for however long. Bucky wondered if they had actually had some kind of reunion, but no one had invited him, because no one could find him. He was good at going off grid like that.

But they really didn’t seem like the type of guys who would forget their best friends, like a _what happens in Vietnam stays in Vietnam_ type of thing. Then again, they had lives back home. Morita’s girl was planning their wedding, and Dugan’s wife had given birth within the first six or seven months of them being overseas. Things couldn’t have been easy, trying to assimilate back into normal life. Back to their jobs, their families…

Bucky had the option to run from his problems, but they hadn’t. Maybe they had just tried to put theirs aside so they would have a shot at a normal life again. Bucky wouldn’t blame them if they had.

But that didn’t stop him from starting up his laptop to find out.

_Google search: howling commandos vietnam war_

Several things popped up in his results – books and autobiographies, websites, Wikipedia pages, interviews on YouTube… fuck. Bucky needed a drink if he was going to do this.

After going to get a beer, he settled back into his couch, feet up on the table in front of him, headphones at the ready, tissues… just in case. You never know.

Bucky recognised Dugan from the thumbnail of the YouTube video, and he steadied himself as he plugged in his headphones and clicked it.

The video was… pretty much all things Bucky knew. It switched between narrated footage from the war and a few of the Commandos talking about their experiences, mostly with very calm and collected expressions, accompanied by quiet voices. Except Dugan. He never did anything quietly.

_“Our sniper… a guy called James Barnes. We called him Bucky. Sometimes we called him smartass,” Dugan huffed and relaxed into his chair, staring somewhere beyond the camera as he pulled the next thing up from the depths of his memories. “Sometimes we called him The Storm, because the only thing that could break through his darkness was sunshine. That was what we called his boyfriend.”_

Bucky’s heart stopped as an archived video started rolling, Dugan still talking over the top of it. It was a clip of Bucky and… and Ben. Tiny, gentle, _beautiful_ Ben. ‘Oh, shit,’ Bucky muttered, clenching his fists tightly and wishing he had downed a lot more alcohol before this.

_“We knew about them, of course we did,” Dugan shrugged, apparently in reply to a question from the interviewer. “It wasn’t like they weren’t subtle, because they were. We figured it out pretty easy, Morita and me, but that was because we were always bunking with the two of ‘em.”_

The video switched to another clip of Bucky and Ben sitting close together, heads almost touching as they cleaned up their guns, cracked into their disgusting C-rations, shared a precious bar of chocolate. God, this was physically paining Bucky to watch.

_“One day we were moving out,” Morita was talking now. “Bucky musta tripped a line or something, or maybe it_ was _Ben, but we knew he woulda jumped in front to save Bucky, so who knows. Either way, a bamboo whip came outta nowhere, slashed Ben up good. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a whip, but they’re nasty. Get you straight in the chest.”_

_“Ben was lying there on the ground,” Dugan was back, talking in the lowest voice Bucky could ever remember him using. “We didn’t care if there were more traps. Ben and Bucky were our guys, and both of ‘em were hurtin’. Bucky was screaming, and that sound still haunts me to this day. I had to get him quiet, or we would’ve been found. I covered his mouth while the medic did his thing, but… There was no way a guy like Ben was comin’ back from that.”_

_“Ben said to Bucky, ‘Sing my song, take my tags,’ and Bucky didn’t want to do that. ‘I’m not taking your tags, and now ain’t the time for singing,’” Morita shook his head. “There was nothing we could do, and Ben knew it. Bucky knew it, too. We didn’t know what to do, because this was a guy losing his man in the middle of the goddamn jungle, tears streaming down his face.”_

_“Bucky started singing to him,” Dugan recalled, more archived video playing as he spoke._

Bucky didn’t know this much footage of him and Ben had even been taken, but shit, he could’ve watched Ben smile like that all fucking day. He supposed, in a way, he could. He had Steve now.

_“And when Buck started singing, we knew he had given up. He hated that song. Ben musta found it funny because Ben was the name of the guy singin’ it, but Buck always rolled his eyes and ignored him when Ben tried to make him sing it. When Bucky couldn’t sing anymore, I started singin’ it instead, because Ben was a good friend of mine, and I didn’t want him goin’ out with his last wish bein’ forgotten.”_

_“I was the one that gave Bucky Ben’s tags,” Morita said. “I think he mighta hated me a bit for that, because it meant it was done. We didn’t know what to do, after that. We couldn’t move them, Bucky wouldn’t let us do that, but we couldn’t stay there. We did anyway.”_

_“Ya know, they held hands while they slept,” Dugan said. “Bucky was holdin’ Ben’s hands when he went, and I think when he felt Ben die, a part of him died with him. The sunshine had gone, and Bucky got… dark. Never in my life have I seen another person in so much pain. Not even the guys bleedin’ to death, or getting bits of metal picked outta their skin with no numbin’…”_

_“Bucky cried a lot after Ben died,” Morita said, shifting in his chair and sighing as he revisited the memory._

Bucky could remember it, too. Watching this video was a shitty idea. A shitty, _shitty_ idea. It brought up so much lingering pain, and all this footage of himself and Ben – Ben especially – was pulling it right to the surface. Tears were falling on his skin before he could fully comprehend it.

_“He went into a bad place. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, ran straight through enemy fire… It was like he was aching to join his guy. Bucky was unstoppable, even when he got hit, he just powered through, and he pulled his trigger on some other poor bastard. He was deadly after Ben died. Wouldn’t’ve liked to meet him if it was a fight just between the two of us.”_

_“When we got back home, Bucky disappeared,” Dugan said, adjusting his hat. “We never heard from him, never knew what happened to him. Suppose he needed some time, because what happened to him wasn’t somethin’ anyone should have to go through. He was a good guy, he didn’t deserve it. No one does.”_

 

* * *

 

Bucky was greatly regretting his little trip down memory lane, but here he was anyway. Pondering his past life. And he _still_ didn’t have any friends he could bitch to about it.

Well. Actually. He kinda did, didn’t he?

****

**_Bucky:_ ** _u know how u said i could talk to u about stuff_

**_Peggy:_ ** _…yeah, what’s up?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _im just drinking alone and thinkin about death :)_

**_Peggy:_ ** _o…k…a…y…?_

**_Peggy:_ ** _do you need me to come over or something?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _idk im just thinkin about my friends… who are dead and/or dying and idk_

**_Peggy:_ ** _what’s your address i'll be there in ten minutes_

**_Bucky:_ ** _u don’t have to do that_

**_Peggy:_ ** _i'll bring beer?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _alright then_

As Bucky sent Peggy his address, he decided to wipe his internet history as a precaution, because the last thing he wanted was for Peggy to see fifty-year-old film footage of a guy that looked like (and was) him, with a guy that looked exactly like Steve.

True to her word, Peggy was there in ten, beer in tow. She seemed genuinely concerned when he opened the door, and Bucky idly wondered if she had made a promise to Steve before he left to keep an eye on Bucky while he was away.

‘Are you okay?’ Peggy asked, stepping through his door. ‘I brought beer, but you need to talk to me before I give it to you, okay?’

Bucky nodded. He could do that. God knows he’d had plenty of time to practise convincing lies. ‘Okay.’

‘So,’ Peggy said, as she made her way easily to Bucky’s living room. ‘Thinking about death, you said.’

‘Yep,’ Bucky nodded again. ‘Inevitability of death, etcetera.’

‘Pleasant,’ Peggy sat on one of Bucky’s armchairs and looked over to him as he flopped onto the couch. ‘This chair is safe to sit in, I hope.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I just don’t want to sit somewhere you or Steve’s naked arses have been.’

‘This entire apartment is safe, then,’ Bucky admitted.

‘Just not my spare room?’

Bucky cleared his throat loudly. ‘So, I’m sure Steve’s told you that my last boyfriend uh… passed away.’

‘He did,’ Peggy nodded. ‘And it’s okay, that’s why I didn’t have you two sleeping on _my_ couch.’

‘Oh.’

‘Anyway, what about your ex? Is it getting to the anniversary or something?’

Bucky shrugged. ‘What’s the least I can say that will still get me a beer?’

‘Just tell me what’s making it flare up and you can have all the beer.’

‘Deal.’

‘So?’

‘I think…’ Bucky paused. ‘I really like Steve, okay? Like, _really_ like him, and it’s not that I feel like I’m cheating on Ben, because I know he would kick me up the ass and tell me to be happy and stop moping about him.’

‘Okay,’ Peggy frowned. ‘I thought you said you were thinking about the inevitability of death, but this is good, I guess.’

‘Well, yeah. I don’t have any friends. They’re all either dying or dead,’ Bucky huffed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Steve doesn’t know this, but I was in the army. It’s where I met Ben, and I held his hands as he died, and it… it fucked with me. Now all the guys I knew while I was there are dying off and I just… I wonder if I should be too, or if I might miss my chance to talk to them all again before they go.’

‘Wow, okay,’ Peggy handed him a beer. ‘Drink.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Is this what you’re keeping from Steve?’

Bucky shrugged by way of answer as he took a long pull from his beer. ‘Among other things.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think if you’re worried you might never get to see your friends again, that maybe you should go see them? Steve’s out of town, so now might be the perfect opportunity to keep your army days separate from your life with Steve.’ Peggy coughed delicately and tucked a curl behind her ear. ‘Even though I’m against you lying to Steve, if you must, then I understand.’

‘You think I should go see them.’

‘Yes.’

‘Theoretically, what if they thought I was dead?’

Peggy raised an eyebrow. ‘ _Do_ they think you’re dead?’

‘I haven’t seen them since we all got back, so maybe,’ Bucky shrugged.

‘That doesn’t necessarily mean they think you’re _dead_. How long has it been?’

‘Uhh… Long time. More than a couple of years.’

‘Hmm. Break it to them gently, then.’

‘You’re serious? You think I should go see them.’

‘It seems like the rational thing to do. If you think you might not have another chance, then you should take this one while you can, because you might regret it otherwise,’ Peggy said, reaching forward to pat Bucky’s knee comfortingly. ‘If you like, I could go with you.’

‘No, no. It’s definitely something I have to do alone,’ Bucky said quietly. A road trip to see Dugan – maybe Morita, too – might not be the worst idea. He was one of the best friends Bucky had ever made, and Peggy was right when she said Bucky would regret not going while he had the chance. Besides, it wasn’t like his… his _curse_ was top secret or anything. It wasn’t a superpower; it was just… better kept under wraps. Just in case.

Maybe breaking his self-imposed silence on the matter to someone he could trust would be a good idea. Bucky needed to talk to someone about this kinda shit, and Dugan was the closest Bucky wanted to come to a therapist or something.

‘So you’re going, then?’ Peggy asked, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I think I am.’

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take Bucky long to find Dugan. He was back in Boston, and Bucky’d had more than enough time to develop his investigative skills, so he was quickly booked on to a train for the next day. He was, however, marginally wasted when this was all organised, so it was safe to say he wasn’t exactly pleased when his alarm went off, bright and fucking early, to remind him to actually get to the station.

Bucky figured he could nap on the way, though – it was more than three hours to get there – but once he found himself in transit, sleep was nearly impossible. He was about to go see one of his best friends, who he hadn’t seen in nearly fifty years. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

He could do this. He _would_ do this. Dum Dum would listen to him, right? But what if Bucky chickened out before he even got there? He didn’t want to, he wanted to go through with it. Was it maybe better to be prepared? What if he wasn’t home?

Yeah. Bucky should be prepared. Besides, he had all this time, and no possibility of sleep on the cards. What he _did_ have was his backpack.

He dug around in it to see if there was anything to write on, and in the plot twist to end all plot twists, he did. Bucky had a spiral bound notebook in there (which he flicked through and discovered was half filled with doodles and mopey writing), a biro, and for some strange reason, an actual envelope.

Why did he have an envelope? Whatever.

Bucky clicked out his pen, checked the time, and started writing a letter for Dugan, just in case.

 

* * *

 

Dugan’s house was very neat. The garden was tidy, with respectful spots of colour from trimmed hydrangeas, camellias, and the odd fruit tree. The two-storey house was a tasteful shade of ivory, which complimented the black tile roof nicely. There was a clear path up to the front door, but Bucky was having a lot of trouble actually taking the steps to get to it.

So Bucky sat. The house across the street from Dugan’s had a low, brick fence, which served perfectly as a bench, and Bucky decided to take a couple of minutes to steel himself up for the task at hand.

_Deep breaths, in and out. You can do this._

Bucky nodded to himself. ‘I can do this,’ he said, standing from the fence, and crossing the road. He looked in through the windows as he made his way up the steps, and _shit_ , there he was.

Dugan was in an armchair, probably in what was his living room, and all Bucky could think was how _grey_ he was. Even his signature moustache had received the monochrome treatment, and as Bucky knocked on the door, he realised he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t interrupt Dugan’s life like this.

_What the fuck had he been thinking?_ ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Bucky muttered, as he turned and headed back down the path. Too late.

‘Can I help you?’

Bucky stopped and turned back towards the door. The person who had opened it was a middle aged woman, possibly Dugan’s daughter, if the red colour of her hair was anything to go by. ‘Uh, I’m looking for Dum… _Timothy_ Dugan.’

‘I’m his daughter, Carole,’ the woman said cautiously. ‘What do you want with my father?’

Bucky approached the door slowly and swung his backpack around to take the letter out. ‘Can you give him this?’

Carole raised an eyebrow suspiciously as she took the outstretched envelope. ‘What is it?’

‘Just a letter.’

‘Mhmm. Can I ask who you are and why you want _me_ to give it to him?’

‘I would do it myself, but… I don’t think he would want to see me,’ Bucky said quietly. ‘Please just tell him it’s from Barnes, and I’m sorry.’

‘Barnes.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Carole nodded slowly. ‘I can do that.’

‘Thank you. I would greatly appreciate it.’

‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘Anything else I can do for you?’

‘No, that’s it,’ Bucky said, taking a few steps backward. ‘Thank you.’

‘Alright,’ Carole said, shutting the door, as Bucky continued his retreat, and made his way away from the house.

_Bucky, you fucking quitter._ He shook his head at himself as he made his way from the Dugan residence. Fuck, this had been a terrible idea.

 

* * *

 

‘Who was that?’ Dugan asked, as Carole re-entered the living room, envelope in hand.

Carole held up the letter and looked pointedly at it. ‘Some guy wanted me to give this to you. He said he didn’t think you’d want to see him.’

‘Who was it?’

‘He said to tell you the letter was from Barnes and that he’s sorry, so I guess it was some guy called Barnes.’

‘Barnes?’ Dugan repeated. ‘James Barnes?’

Carole shrugged and sat back down on the couch, taking her cup of tea and sipping it. ‘Not sure. Tall, dark hair, mid to late twenties.’

‘In his twenties?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Huh,’ Dugan opened the envelope and slid out the letter, unfolding it and beginning to read.

 

> _Dear Dum Dum,_
> 
> _I know, it’s been a long time coming. Probably too long. I think I missed my chance to do this about forty years ago, but better late than never, I guess. I saw you were still up and kicking and thought I’d take this opportunity to see you one more time. If you’re reading this, though, it looks like I was too chickenshit to go through with it._
> 
> _So I guess I’m sorry for that._
> 
> _The thing is, while you and the other Commandos have grown up and aged, I haven’t. No one else knows this. You might call me crazy, or tell me that I’m being ridiculous, but trust me – setting eyes on my handsome face again would’ve stopped your fragile heart. Besides, I’ve been dealing with this shit longer than you’ve been alive, so I’ve heard it all before. Just believe me when I say I’m not lying._
> 
> _In other news, I’ve got another boyfriend. His name is Steve, and he’s a recently retired (heavily decorated) Army Captain. He looks like Ben. I think you’d like him. (You can probably Google him, actually. Or not. That might possibly kill you.)_
> 
> _I just wanted to come by and tell you that I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t stop to see you. I wanted you to know that I saw the interview you did where you talked about me, and that I’m grateful I had you to keep me (marginally) sane through that time. I know I dropped off the radar after we all got back, but it was better for everyone if I just left._
> 
> _I hope you’ve had a good life, Dugan. Out of everyone I’ve met over the course of my long life, you deserve it most. You were one of my best friends, and I’m sorry my last correspondence with you is through the medium of ripped notebook paper and a stained envelope. (In my defence, I had no idea it was in this fucking backpack.)_
> 
> _I’m sorry, again, for putting you through this. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and you don’t deserve to deal with my issues._
> 
> _If any of the other Commandos are still turning down the reaper, tell them I say hi._
> 
> _Sgt. JBB._
> 
> _(P.S – I hope your bowler hat died a peaceful death. It was a brave soldier, too.)_

‘Holy shit,’ Dugan breathed, looking up to his daughter. ‘Get me that album that has all the photos from ‘Nam in it?’

Carole frowned, but got up and retrieved the photo album anyway, from where it was sitting on the top shelf of the bookcase. She handed it to her father as she came back. ‘What is it?’

Dugan shook his head as he went through the pages, knowing exactly what he was after. ‘This,’ he said, pointing at a group photo. ‘Is this the guy?’

Carole stood behind her father’s chair and looked at the person he was pointing at. The guy’s hair was shorter, and he was a little less muscled, but the resemblance was uncanny. ‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘That looks like him. A son the spitting image of his father.’

Dugan stared at the photo in disbelief, sitting back into his chair. ‘Goddamn.’

‘Dad?’ Carole asked. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing,’ Dugan said, still looking at Bucky in the grainy photograph, like he might move and scare the shit outta him. ‘Just didn’t know Barnes had kids.’

 

* * *

 

**_Peggy:_ ** _so? how did it go?_

Bucky sighed as he read the text, over and over, wondering what to say. Would another tiny lie hurt here? Possibly not.

 

**_Bucky:_ ** _yeah it went really well :)_

**_Peggy:_ ** _told you! :)_

Yeah, Peggy. You did.

 

* * *

 

Bucky really didn’t care what Steve said about not coming to the airport to pick him up. He was there anyway, because he couldn’t wait to see him, and to hold him in his arms. He was still finding it hard to believe that Steve was _here_ , and _real_ , and Bucky could actually touch him. Like, _with his own hands_.

‘Hey, Buck!’ Steve greeted, appearing over the heads of the other people in the terminal, and making his way towards him. ‘I thought I told you not to come!’

‘Yeah, you did,’ Bucky said, reaching up to pull Steve into a tight hug. ‘I’m just a needy shit.’

Steve laughed, and a little of the ice that had formed around Bucky’s heart over the past few days melted away. ‘I missed you, too. How were things while I was gone?’

Bucky shrugged as much as he could, while wrapped in the muscle that was Steve Rogers. ‘Pretty uneventful. Sat around watching Netflix the whole time.’

‘I swear to God, you better not have watched any more _Grey’s Anatomy_ while I was gone.’

‘I didn’t, pinkie promise.’

‘I believe you,’ Steve said, kissing Bucky’s temple and letting him go. ‘Shall we? I want to get supplies and spend the next week at your house, doing nothing but binging it.’

Bucky grinned. ‘Sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.’

 

* * *

 

It was halfway through season four of Grey’s, around the time when Lexie had her fingers jammed in some dude’s neck to stop him bleeding out through a burst carotid artery, that it occurred to Bucky.

Steve had squeezed his hand, and shut his eyes, taking deep breaths, because he had seen that shit happen in real life.

Bucky had held his hand and squeezed right back. ‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll tell you when it’s done.’

‘Thanks,’ Steve replied quietly, leaning a little more into Bucky’s side.

_That_ was when it hit him.

Despite that Bucky had done everything in his power to avoid this situation, he had started to fall for Steve, regardless. Like a snowball down a hill, there was no stopping it now.

_Shit._


	5. A Story of Truths

‘They’re catching us,’ Bucky warned, looking back over the stern of the ship. ‘If they do, we’re done.’

‘I _know_ ,’ Gabriel muttered, running a hand through his blonde hair and pacing in front of the ship’s wheel. ‘They won’t catch us. No one ever does.’

‘You always say that.’

‘So far I’ve been right.’

‘Maybe, but –’

‘James,’ Gabriel put his hands solidly on Bucky’s shoulders as he went past, looking into his eyes and giving him a reassuring smile. ‘Have a little faith.’

Bucky narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. ‘I have no faith. That’s why your mother thinks I’m a heathen.’

‘My mother does _not_ think you’re a heathen.’

‘She doesn’t _like_ me.’

‘No one likes you, you’re a pirate,’ Gabriel said, looking back over their shoulders to the approaching ships.

‘ _We_ are pirates. Your mother thinks I’m a bad influence,’ Bucky sighed. ‘If only she knew.’

‘Knew what?’

Bucky’s face split into a grin, and he bumped his hip into Gabriel’s. ‘What happens in the Captain’s quarters.’

Gabriel laughed. ‘Oh yes. That. She definitely wouldn’t like you if she knew about _that_.’

‘Sorry to interrupt, but what’s our move?’ asked the first mate, Harper; a tall, slender woman with her black hair heaped into a pile on her head. ‘What are we doing?’

Bucky kept his eyes on Gabriel, who was still looking behind to the ships closing in on them. ‘How many cannonballs do we have?’

‘Not many.’

‘Gabriel?’ Bucky said quietly. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Let them catch us,’ Gabriel murmured, looking back to Bucky. ‘We can beat them in close range and hand to hand.’

‘They outnumber us. Everyone will be killed.’

Will smiled. ‘We’re pirates, James. Let them _try_ to kill us.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky was not fully conscious when he woke up. His heart was still racing from the end of his memory being played back in his dream, and he was only partly aware of the fact that he was not on board his ship anymore.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered, switching on the light beside his bed, and frantically rolling towards Steve. ‘Fuck,’ he said again, running his hands over Steve’s torso, up his shirt, under the neck and sleeves.

‘Buck?’ Steve asked sleepily. ‘What’re you doin’?’

Bucky didn’t find what he was looking for, and he collapsed back onto his pillow with a loud exhale as he realised _when_ he was. ‘Sorry. Go back to sleep.’

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Bucky said, reaching for Steve’s hand and holding it lightly. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘Mm, okay,’ Steve mumbled, squeezing Bucky’s hand, before drifting back to sleep.

Bucky held his hand up to the light, just before he switched it off. He had to check there definitely wasn’t blood on him, because then he would know Steve was absolutely okay. Despite that Bucky hadn’t sunk his fingertips into any gaping wounds, he _had_ found some suspiciously raised and bumpy areas on Steve’s skin. They required a little more investigation.

 

* * *

 

‘Buck, wake up,’ Steve murmured, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder and blowing gently on his face. ‘It’s nearly six. We need to go for our run.’

‘Mm,’ Bucky cracked an eye open and looked up to his boyfriend. ‘Fuck it, I’m staying here.’

‘No run?’

‘Not today. You go meet Sam. Have fun,’ Bucky said, snuggling into the blankets and sighing contentedly. ‘I’m too tired.’

‘We didn’t have a late night, Bucky.’

‘ _You_ didn’t,’ Bucky murmured. ‘I didn’t get to sleep until about four.’

‘That was less than two hours ago.’

‘Sadly.’

‘Any particular reason?’ Steve asked, giving up on getting Bucky up to run, and putting his own running gear on.

‘Things we don’t talk about.’

Steve hesitated as he tied his shoes, before asking, ‘Are you pulling a curtain on this?’

‘I am most definitely pulling a curtain on this,’ Bucky confirmed. He and Steve had decided to use a safe word for when they didn’t want to talk about something, and it was agreed that should they say they were _pulling a curtain_ on a subject, then the other would not push it. Should it come up in conversation with other people, they would steer the topic away to something else. It was a system that worked well, and Bucky was, again, so damn thankful that Steve was the way he was.

‘Okay,’ Steve said, coming over and pecking Bucky’s cheek. ‘Sleep some more. I’ll wake you when I get back.’

‘Mmkay,’ Bucky sighed, drawing the covers tighter around himself. ‘Don’t trip over anything.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Steve grinned, leaving the bedroom, and closing the front door quietly behind himself as he left.

It seemed like Steve didn’t remember the events of last night/this morning, which Bucky was not surprised at, but thankful for anyway. The less Steve knew about how utterly screwed up his life had been, the better.

Last night, Bucky had relived the death of a previous Steve – Gabriel, his name was. That was in the time that Bucky thought he could escape the constant recurrence of _Steve_ s by jumping on a boat and spending a few decades on the sea, going from ship to ship. Somehow, Bucky had found himself in control of one, the _Blackbird_ , and discovered he had become a pirate.

How he hadn’t _realised_ he was a pirate, that was still a mystery, but at some point, it occurred to him that what he and his crew were doing was… well. Probably not all that legal. Not that he had cared, of course. It was hard, but it was fun, and fuck it, because he had lived a hard few centuries up to that point, hadn’t he?

Then fucking Ste- _Gabriel_ had joined his crew, and the chips had fallen where they always did. Bucky’s raiding and destruction caught up with him a little over a year later, and by the time the ships started chasing them, Bucky knew it was time for Gabriel to go. He had said those magic words that morning, and pirates weren’t exactly the type to be blessed with longevity in the first place

Gabriel had died messily, his shirt soaked red with his blood from the many wounds he had received. The crew which came to take over their ship had cheated and used guns. Gabriel was an excellent swordsman, but you don’t bring a sword to a gunfight, and all that.

When Bucky woke up, he wanted to make sure that Steve was okay, because he knew the time was coming that he, too, would die.

Bucky didn’t want him to.

He never did, of course, but this time… This time felt different. Bucky had never had such a _normal_ life with any of the previous incarnations of Steve, but aside from that, he could feel himself falling harder than ever before. When Steve died, Bucky didn’t know how he would come back from it.

Bucky needed to live in the now and enjoy it while it lasted. He would figure out the details later.

 

* * *

 

‘Steve!’ Sam greeted, full out sprinting to catch up with his friend. ‘How long have you been waiting here?’

‘Not long,’ Steve smiled, as Sam came to a stop beside him.

‘You’re alone this morning. Where’s your slightly less better half?’

‘In bed,’ Steve shrugged. ‘We’re not talking about it.’

‘Ah,’ Sam nodded knowingly, as he and Steve began their run. ‘How was D.C.? I don’t think I asked when you got back.’

‘Yeah, it was fine. It was good to see my army people again.’

‘Did you get your mystery business sorted?’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Hah. Not as well as I would’ve liked to.’

‘What was it? Am I allowed to ask?’ Sam took a moment to dramatically clutch a row of imaginary pearls around his neck. ‘Did you buy Bucky a _ring_?’

‘No, Jesus,’ Steve huffed in frustration and slowed his pace until they were walking. ‘I got offered a job.’

‘Oh really? Doing what?’

‘Working with Peggy.’

Sam frowned. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. She said she didn’t ask for me, personally, but that they sent me the _request for service_ or whatever anyway.’

‘What did you say?’ Sam asked. ‘Was it a firm no?’

‘Yep. Very firm,’ Steve shook his head. ‘Couldn’t do it, Sam. I can’t go back into that sort of thing, not yet. Maybe not ever.’

‘I get you, man. It’s totally your choice what to do. Still having dreams?’

‘I’ll be having them until the day I die,’ Steve muttered. ‘You know, I got shot?’

‘Oh? How is your mom still alive? She seems like the type to have a heart attack if you got hurt or something,’ Sam paused thoughtfully. ‘I mean, Sarah’s great, but…’

‘Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I didn’t tell her.’

‘You didn’t _tell_ her?’

‘Nope. You’re the only person other than Peggy who I see regularly and actually knows.’

‘Really?’ Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m honoured, but Steve… That’s kind of crazy.’

‘I didn’t want my mom to worry, and I don’t want to dump this on Bucky,’ Steve explained. ‘I don’t want either of them to take this on from me.’

‘Oh but it’s okay for _me_ to?’ Sam joked. ‘Nah, I get you. I don’t think they’ll be too surprised if you tell them, because they know where you’ve been, and what you’ve done. Surely Bucky’s seen you naked and noticed.’

Steve blushed. ‘Uh, well…’

‘Oh my God, Steve,’ Sam’s eyebrows, somehow, went higher. ‘You and Bucky haven’t done the dance with no pants?’

‘ _No_ , I mean, yes, well. We were drunk,’ Steve babbled. ‘We haven’t _sober_ and it’s always dark when we cuddle and usually I sleep in a shirt, so… I don’t know. It’s like living in a nunnery.’

‘Monastery, dude.’

‘Whatever. You know what I mean.’

‘Somehow, yes. Again, it’s up to you guys and I _don’t_ want details, but surely you want to… you know.’

‘Yeah, of course! I mean, _I_ do. I think Bucky’s feeling guilty after his last boyfriend, but he won’t really talk about it.’

‘Maybe you need to show him you’re in it for the long haul,’ Sam suggested. ‘Unless you think he’ll run.’

‘I would hope not,’ Steve shrugged.

Sam was quiet for a few moments, before asking, ‘Do you love him?’

‘I...’ Steve sighed. ‘I think so. It’s only been a few months, but I think I would die without him. He’s my kind of perfect.’

Sam smiled. ‘Well, you can work on your feelings later. We’re going to run in silence now.’

Steve laughed. ‘I’m okay with that.’

 

* * *

 

It was a couple days after his conversation with Steve that Sam decided he would step in. Not like, shove his entire foot in and get involved, just… a teeny tiny baby toe into his friends’ business. Give things a small nudge, if you will.

This was, actually, not even planned.

Sam just went to get coffee from the Starbucks he always went to, and he saw Bucky sitting at one of the tables by himself, book in hand. Something about the Vietnam War, it looked like. That unit… the Screaming Commandeers? No, that’s not right. The Howling Commandos, there we go.

It occurred to Sam that right now was the _perfect_ opportunity, like God himself had presented it to him on a platter. A grumpy, caffeinated, man bun wearing platter. So he ordered his drink, and once he had it, made his way to Bucky’s table.

‘Hey, man,’ he greeted, sitting opposite Bucky. ‘How’s it going?’

Bucky looked up in surprise and closed the book, using an empty sugar sachet as a bookmark. ‘Oh, hi. I’m good, you?’

‘Good, good. Just getting my coffee, you know.’

‘Cool.’

‘Hey, uh, you talked to Steve recently?’ Sam asked casually, sipping his drink.

‘Have I talked to my boyfriend recently?’ Bucky repeated, amusement in his tone. ‘Not really, he practically lives in my apartment, but I mostly just stare blankly at him.’

‘Ha, ha. You’re hilarious.’

‘Must be why Steve spends so much time laughing when he sees me. I always thought it was my face.’

‘Seriously, I’m trying to have a conversation with you here, can you be less of an asshole for three seconds?’

‘Sorry, natural reflexes.’ Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just wondering, but can I ask why you and Steve haven’t…’

Bucky blinked. ‘Tell me, Samuel, how much time do you spend thinking about my sex life in an average day?’

‘Oh my God, no, none at all. Steve just mentioned you hadn’t –’

‘ _Steve_ mentioned?’ Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, now he’s telling you things instead of coming straight to me.’

‘Well, not _straight_ , let’s be real.’

‘You’re not funny, Samuel.’

‘Uh, Steve just mentioned it in passing while he was talking about something else, but does it bother you?’

‘That me and Steve have had sex once and it was while we were both incredibly drunk?’ Bucky asked. ‘Yeah, that kind of bothers me, but –’

‘Why haven’t you _since_?’

‘Why do you _care_ so much?’

‘Steve is my friend, and I’m a councillor, so you can tell me,’ Sam said, giving an unconvincing smile.

‘You’re being creepy as fuck right now, Sam.’

Sam sighed and took another long sip from his drink. ‘Okay, fine, we’ll do it this way. Steve said you don’t want to because it feels to you like you’re cheating on a boyfriend you had who died. Is that right?’

Bucky exhaled deeply. ‘Kinda. If you’re reporting this back to him, tell him I just want to take things slow. He knows I want to go slow. We’re _going slow_. It only bothers me that we’re doing something we both agreed to when people bring it up and act like we’re weird or something because we’re not _actually_ fucking.’

‘I’m not reporting back, he didn’t ask me to talk to you about this,’ Sam huffed. ‘I would’ve said no if he had, trust me.’

‘Then why are you asking me about it?’

Sam shrugged. ‘Do you think you’ll be ready to stop going _as_ slow any time soon?’

Bucky picked up his book again, flipping open to his page. ‘What happens between me and Steve is between me and Steve. But if it makes you feel better, I’m going to give you a firm _maybe_ , okay?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, and now we’re really done,’ Bucky removed the sugar sachet and focused on the book in front of him. ‘So you can go now, safe in your perverted knowledge that Steve and I may be doing the do next time you’re sitting watching TV, okay?’

Sam grinned and stood up, happy and convinced he had done some good work here. ‘Okay. Uh, have fun, be –’

‘Shut the hell up, Samuel, don’t you dare say it.’

 

* * *

 

**_Steve:_ ** _quick – what’s your favorite food_

**_Bucky:_ ** _uh_

**_Steve:_ ** _???????_

**_Bucky:_ ** _vodka_

**_Steve:_ ** _favorite non-liquid??_

**_Bucky:_ ** _shit idk! pasta? meat and potatoes? cabbage?????_

**_Bucky:_ ** _why??_

**_Steve:_ ** _cabbage?!!??! i'm making u dinner ;)_

**_Bucky:_ ** _uhh okY_

**_Bucky:_ ** _*okay_

**_Steve:_ ** _i'll be at ur house at 6 to start cooking okay?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _okay??_

**_Steve:_ ** _okay great see u tonight :)))_

**_Bucky:_ ** _okay????_

 

* * *

 

‘Do you even know how to cook?’ Bucky asked, watching Steve as he fluttered around the kitchen. ‘I’ve never seen you touch a frying pan.’

‘I cook all the time,’ Steve sniffed indignantly. ‘Now, where’s your chopping board?’

‘Cupboard beside the dishwasher, bottom shelf. What are you making? I can help if you want.’

‘Nope, I said I was cooking, so that’s what I’m gonna do.’

‘Right. Just don’t set my apartment on fire.’

‘Oh please.’ Steve set the pan on the stove and studied the knobs and switches. ‘I’d have to figure out how to turn this thing on in order to do that.’

Bucky pursed his lips as he hopped up onto the bench beside where Steve had organised an array of items. ‘I’m just going to sit here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.’

‘Overcautious, but appreciated. Thanks.’

‘Gotta look out for my best guy, right?’

Steve smiled as he chopped potatoes. ‘Is that me?’

‘You bet your beautiful ass, it is.’

‘Aw, Buck. You really know how to charm a guy.’

‘I have been called a snake charmer in the past, yes.’

Steve snickered and elbowed Bucky gently in the arm. ‘Alright, snake charmer. Come chop some onions for me.’

‘As you wish, your slitheriness,’ Bucky said, bowing as he slid down from the bench to find another chopping board and knife.

‘Hey, Buck?’

‘Mhmm?’

‘You wouldn’t be a fan of _The Princess Bride_ , would you?’ Steve asked slowly.

Bucky grinned. ‘Yes, Buttercup, I am.’

‘Oh good,’ Steve muttered, turning back to his potatoes. ‘I’ve gone from “your slitheriness” to “Buttercup”. Things are just getting better for me.’

‘I aim to please,’ Bucky said seriously. ‘How are you cooking these potatoes?’

‘I figure if I look at them long enough, they’ll just get really hot and cook themselves.’

‘You have a seriously inflated opinion of yourself, buddy.’

‘Sometimes you just gotta blow your own trumpet, ya know?’

‘I didn’t know you were so flexible.’

‘Just you wait, Wesley,’ Steve winked. ‘But, uh. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.’

‘Oh?’ Bucky asked, swinging his leg out of the way as Steve opened a cupboard under the bench to get a pot for the potatoes. ‘What’s up?’

‘So, you know how I was in the army?’

‘Yeah…’

‘Well, I mean, it was before I met you, like, _way_ before, but I got shot,’ Steve paused, dumping the potatoes in his chosen pot. ‘More than once, actually.’

Bucky sighed gently and nodded. ‘I know.’

‘How? Did Sam or Peggy tell you?’

‘What?’ Bucky frowned. ‘No, I know what bullet wounds feel like, Steve, and I spend more time than you realise actually touching your chest.’

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. ‘Um. That brings two questions to mind.’

‘Shoot.’

‘How and what?’

Bucky shrugged and fought a smile. ‘You may have noticed I have a few bullet shaped scars of my own, and also people die in a lot of my dreams, so when I wake up, I kinda check you’re not bleeding or whatever.’

‘Oh.’

‘I didn’t say anything because I figured you’d bring it up if you wanted to.’

‘And if I hadn’t?’

‘I wouldn’t have, either.’

‘Really?’ Steve asked, setting the pot of potatoes and water on the stove. ‘You would’ve just… accepted it?’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky nodded. ‘Not my place to bring up things I know you don’t like to talk about.’

‘That’s… thanks, Buck.’

‘You don’t need to thank me, but I guess you’re welcome.’

Steve smiled and leaned over to peck Bucky’s cheek. ‘You just can’t tell my mom now, okay?’

‘Why?’

‘I think she might actually have a heart attack and die.’

‘So you weren’t concerned about _me_ having a heart attack and dying?’

‘Nah,’ Steve grinned. ‘I figured you’d probably be okay.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘Always, babe.’

 

* * *

 

God, Bucky was beyond fucked at this point.

Ignoring the fact that he was literally _beyond_ fucked, because as he and Steve collapsed into the sheets and caught their breaths, Steve _said_ it. Bucky had been actively avoiding this conversation, just like a lot of things, and had been trying to steer Steve off the topic for weeks, because he could feel it coming.

But here they were. Grinning up at Bucky’s ceiling, because he had finally given in and allowed the accidental sex to be rectified with official, memorable sex.

‘Oh, I love you,’ Steve breathed, turning to look at Bucky. ‘Who cares if it’s only been like six months, I’m in love with you.’

Bucky was speechless. He tried to play it off that he was still unable to coherently form words, but that wasn’t an excuse that would last for very long. Steve had _said it_. Bucky knew that he was falling for Steve. He knew it was a matter of time before he was absolutely all in, with no chance of climbing out of that black hole.

But he also didn’t want Steve to think his feelings weren’t being reciprocated.

Thankfully, Steve stepped in to fix the situation before Bucky had to say something. ‘I understand if you can’t say it back,’ he said, still getting his breath back. ‘If you’re still too attached to your ex, I just want you to know, it’s okay. I’m not pushing you.’

Bucky’s hands clenched by themselves, nerves already building up. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, really. I’m not hurt or anything. I just wanted you to know.’

‘I…’ Bucky stopped. ‘Thanks.’

Steve hummed and rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder. ‘You’re welcome. Sleep now?’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky said hollowly. ‘Sleep now.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky needed to leave.

Now Steve had said _it_ , those three stupid words, he was in danger. He was a ticking bomb, and at any moment, his timer was going to stop.

Bucky had woken up in the middle of the night, looked at Steve sleeping so peacefully, and had had an epiphany. He was so totally in love with Steve, now. Maybe it had taken some sleep for his brain to process it, but after Steve had said it, he _knew_.

And now they were both _doomed_ , to put it lightly. Bucky wouldn’t survive if Steve got hit by a car, or tripped on a tree root while they were running, and split his head open. If Steve got called back to war and was fatally hit, if Steve slipped with a knife in his hand, _if, if, if._ Something would happen. Steve would die, and Bucky would, too.

So Bucky needed to leave. He had to protect Steve. Maybe if he never saw Steve again, never said those little words back, never confirmed anything and just _went_ , Steve would be safe. Maybe. Maybe not. Karma was a bitch. But Bucky would rather leave Steve and risk him thinking Bucky didn’t love him back, than to know that he had, essentially, killed Steve.

And Steve didn’t deserve it. Steve deserved to live with all his friends and family around him. He was a light too bright to be extinguished this early in life, and for him to die would kill more than just Bucky. It would crush his friends, and sure, maybe they would heal from it, but they wouldn’t be the same after. And Sarah? God, if _Bucky_ was doomed to a dull, painful life without Steve, then _Sarah_ would be condemned to the dark and wouldn’t resurface.

Bucky would always find another Steve, but there would never be another _Steve_. His friends and family wouldn’t get him back, fuck, Bucky wouldn’t get him back. He’d have _another_ incarnation of Steve, another life to live, and he’d watch the new Steve die all over again.

But what if Bucky didn’t want to do that anymore? Because he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not now. Bucky had tried to end himself before, but… it hadn’t worked. Clearly. This curse was a shitty thing to have.

He wished he’d never asked for it.

And now, Bucky had to leave. Steve was _the one_ , even more so than the _Steve_ Bucky had first fallen for, the one he had taken the curse on for, so he could be with him forever. Bucky didn’t want to live in a world without Steve, and he would find a fucking way to leave right along with him.

But for now – Bucky needed to go. Right now.

He slid out of his bed, trying to make as little noise as possible as Steve still slept in his bed. How could he do this so he wouldn’t hurt Steve?

Basically, there was no way this could go that would leave Steve happy and worry-free. Okay. Leave a note then? Not ideal, but then again, nothing was ideal in this stupid shitty situation.

Bucky dressed swiftly, before he grabbed a bag and chucked in an assortment of things – clothes, his wallet, phone charger. He didn’t really need much, because if he needed anything, he could just go buy it. Perks of being alive for a few centuries was the amount of cash (and interest on that cash) you had.

Before Bucky left his room, he took one more glance at Steve, sleeping so quietly. Bucky’s heart ached, but Lord knew it would be nothing compared to what would happen if Steve died. As Bucky walked through to his front door, he stopped in the kitchen to write the stupid note to Steve.

 

> _Had something to take care of._
> 
> _Don’t worry about me._
> 
> _-B_

Now all Bucky had to do was walk out that door, and figure out his next move.

He found himself hovering a little next to the kitchen bench, dishes still half done in the sink from where he and Steve had gotten distracted earlier and started flicking each other with bubbles and towels. Bucky was halfway to convincing himself he had made a mistake, when he heard a noise from the bedroom.

If he didn’t leave now, he never would, and Steve would be done.

So, Bucky took a deep breath, and left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

Bucky wandered the streets for he didn’t know how long. He couldn’t just go to a hotel and go back to sleep, because that would just not work. What he needed was someone who could help him fix his fucking problem – namely the _“If I tell my boyfriend I love him, he’s literally going to die”_ problem. There was probably no one who could help him fix this, but if anyone could, it would be the same type of person who put this fucking curse on him in the first place.

Bucky needed a witch.

Or, rather, someone who dealt with magic. Where the hell did you find people who hand their finger in that particular pie, though? He couldn’t just find a phonebook and flip through it to _Magic_ because he’d end up consulting someone who’s greatest trick was pulling a rabbit out of a hidden compartment in a hat or whatever. Or, like that guy in _Pitch Perfect_ , a mouse in his fucking sleeve. (Steve had made him watch it, okay? And Bucky sure as fuck wasn’t going to deny himself the opportunity to witness Captain Steven Rogers, decorated military vet and all round badass, singing along with Anna Kendrick.)

Where the fuck did he find someone, then?

Of course. The internet. Everything was on the internet.

Maybe he could start with psychics and tarot readers, and see if any of them had any real magic that they could throw his way.

Bucky made his way to the 24-hour diner he liked to visit, and ordered a cup of coffee while he logged his phone into their free wifi.

 

_psychics and tarot readers in NYC_

Great. What good, subtle searching, Bucky, you fucking _idiot._

Nevertheless, he made his way through the listings and websites, making judgements on whether or not any of these people might be useful, and taking screenshots of the ones who seemed a little more promising than the others.

He decided that as soon as it was light, and these people would actually be _open_ , that he would start making his way through them.

Bucky sipped his coffee when it arrived, putting in an order for his usual pancakes with his favourite waitress, Maria, and scribbling things in the notebook he found in his backpack.

_This_ psychic had a five-star rating, _this_ tarot reader was 98% accurate, according to their customers. _This_ one had a grandparent who had cursed someone to jump around like a frog for the rest of their life, and _this_ one had pretty much nothing going for her, except that her grandmother was a learned woman who lived in a small Russian village, and was well known for certain skills by the people there.

Bucky decided to start with the Russian woman. He figured that as suspicious as he was of the exact _quality_ of her work, she at least wasn’t making up bullshit about frog legs and chicken beaks or whatever. Bucky knew that was almost certainly all fake, and as someone who had more experience with magic than the average joe, he was somewhat of a leading authority on it.

As soon as the clock on his phone ticked over to _8:30_ , Bucky made his way to a train to get to the other side of Brooklyn to see this tarot reader.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t nervous as he walked up the street, seeing the glowing neon sign, surrounded by the safety bars and velvet curtains. The hand-painted sign on the footpath was nice, honestly. Not dark looking, but light colours and clear words. If anything, it was inviting.

Bucky had a good feeling about this place.

He opened the door, a light tinkling sounding over his head as he entered and went to the… main desk? Did tarot readers have _reception desks_ now? Jesus.

Bucky looked around behind it, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited for someone to appear.

‘Can I help you?’ a woman asked, coming around from the curtains behind the desk. She had red hair, falling in gentle waves on her shoulders, lips painted crimson, and smooth winged eyeliner. She was wearing a loose top and dark jeans, and didn’t look at all like what Bucky had been expecting.

‘Uh, yeah, I’m…’ Bucky hadn’t really thought he would get this far, actually. What was he going to say now? ‘I need some… help, I guess.’

‘Some help?’ the woman raised an eyebrow and looked Bucky over. ‘What kind of help?’

‘Well, you work here, I think, so I’m guessing you know what kind of help.’

‘Hmm. Okay, follow me,’ she said, nodding to the curtains, and leading Bucky into the main room.

This, also, was not what he had expected. There was a low table, cushions on the floor, a few decorative items here and there, but no crystal balls or anything like Bucky suspected the other readers might have had. There was a small group of candles on a shelf, but Bucky figured they, too, were decorative, if the unburnt wicks were anything to go by.

‘Have a seat,’ the woman said, sitting on one side of the table, and gesturing for Bucky to take the other. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Bucky.’

‘Alright, Bucky. My name is Natasha. What are you after? Need to talk to some ancestors? Get a grip on where your life is headed?’

Bucky bit his lip and opened up his bag, before he paused. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘Do you believe in curses?’

Natasha blinked. ‘Do I believe in curses?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I do. Why?’

‘Are you for real? Like you’re not a sham or anything? I read your website and you said your grandmother was Russian and that’s my sorta thing, if that makes sense.’

‘I would say what I do is _real_ , compared to all those other fakes, who just say what people want to hear from them. And if it makes you feel better, I’m also Russian.’

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. ‘That’s how it works, yeah.’

Natasha smiled. ‘So what is it that brought you to me? My grandmother? Because she’s dead now.’

‘That’s, uh. Okay. The thing is, I have a boyfriend,’ Bucky said slowly. ‘And I _really_ like him, if you get my drift.’

‘You lo –’

‘ _Don’t_ say it!’ Bucky interrupted. ‘Don’t say it.’

Natasha frowned. ‘Why?’

‘That’s the thing,’ Bucky sighed. ‘Don’t laugh at me.’

‘I won’t,’ Natasha promised.

‘The thing is,’ Bucky said slowly. ‘I’m kind of cursed.’

‘You’re cursed.’

‘Yes.’

Natasha took a deep breath and got up off the floor. ‘Stay here, I’ll be right back.’

Bucky strained his hearing while she was gone, convinced Natasha had left to go laugh at him, but instead, he heard the sign from outside be dragged in, and a lock click.

Natasha didn’t speak until she was sitting back down opposite Bucky. ‘Carry on.’

‘With what?’

‘Why you’re cursed. What it is. What you think I can do for you. Go back to the start.’

‘The start?’

‘The start,’ she nodded. ‘The shop is closed, I have time. I’m guessing _you_ , however, do not.’

‘Not exactly,’ Bucky snorted. ‘Okay, well. The start. You’re not going to tell me I’m crazy or that I’m lying or anything?’

‘I wouldn’t have closed up if I didn’t think you were serious.’

Bucky took that as a good sign, and decided to just say fuck it. Natasha seemed to believe him on some scale at least, and that was better than anything he could’ve expected thus far. So he went for it.

‘I was born in a time when magic wasn’t just a fantasy, or the watered down parlour trick it seems to have ended up as in this generation,’ Bucky paused to give Natasha an apologetic smile, and continued when she shrugged in some form of agreement. ‘Magic was real, and revered, and feared like hell. You didn’t fuck with it, or it would fuck with you. And I fucked with it.

‘I was in love with a man who was killed far too young, taken before his time. I haven’t said his name in a long, long time, and I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter and I didn’t remember anyway, but his name was Dmitri.’

‘Are you Russian?’ Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, but I don’t know if I feel it anymore. I was born there, and I lived there, but… I don’t know what I am. I don’t even know if I’m human.’

‘Let’s just assume that your curse hasn’t fundamentally changed you, okay? Go on.’

‘Dmitri was beautiful. A little shorter than me, a little less muscled. Blond and blue eyed, with a smile that brought warmth through the long winters. He was kind, funny, patient and wise beyond his years. Best of all, he loved me.

‘So when Dmitri died, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t live without him, so I went to a woman in our little village who was known to dabble in these sorts of things. I asked her to bring him back, that I would give her anything she asked if she just saved him. She asked me if I knew what I was doing, what I was playing with by getting her to bring the dead back to life, and at that point, I was still very naïve, and I thought she was patronising me, so I said I did. Looking back, she was just trying to protect me, and while she could’ve easily said no, she said she would do it, and all she needed was a little bit of my soul.

‘So she cut my arm, collected some blood, and told me to be on my way.’ Bucky paused and looked down to his left forearm, absently rubbing the spot where the thin white scar still stood out against his skin. ‘I thought she had lied to me when he didn’t immediately come back, but, _fuck_ , she kept her word. I’ve been alive since well before the Mayflower docked here, and I’m so fucking _tired_ of this.’

Natasha frowned, nodding slowly. ‘Okay, but what’s your curse? Except to have an obviously extended lifespan.’

Bucky laughed bitterly. ‘Every few years, I find another Dmitri, back from the dead. They’re never the same person, personality or life-wise, but they look the same. I fall for them all every time, and as soon as he tells me he loves me, his days are numbered. At first I couldn’t figure out why he kept dying, but it turns out, as soon as I say it back, he’s pretty much a dead man walking. I have to watch him die all over again, and then a little while later, another Dmitri turns up, and it happens _all over again_.’

‘I see,’ Natasha said quietly. ‘And you’ve finally had enough?’

‘I’d had enough about two centuries after it started. I can’t die, and believe me, I’ve fucking tried to.’

‘So why now?’

Bucky took a deep breath and got out his phone, opening it to the camera reel and sliding it across the table, the most recent photo selected and at full screen. ‘His name is Steve,’ Bucky said. ‘And this morning he said it to me.’

Natasha picked up the phone. It was a photo Bucky had taken of Steve last night, as he stood in Bucky’s living room, looking out the main window. He had turned up earlier than expected, and they had watched the sun set over the buildings marring the horizon. The setting sun had bathed Steve in an orange glow, turning his hair gold, and his eyes reflecting the light like fire. Bucky thought it was too good of a photographic opportunity to pass up, and was now his lock screen and home screen background, but he wanted Natasha to be able to appreciate the original photo in all its glory.

Natasha slid the phone back, still not looking convinced. ‘What’s so special about him compared to all the others?’

‘He’s the one,’ Bucky said immediately. ‘He’s just… indescribable. And… I can’t say it or he’s going to die, but… I like him more than the reason he’s around. More than ever before. Better than Dmitri. This time, when he dies, I won’t be able to bounce back. It’s been getting harder and harder, but this time… This time I’m done.’

Natasha set her hands on the table and looked down at them as she laced her fingers together. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Bucky took one last glance at the photo, before he locked the screen and said, ‘I need you to save him.’


	6. A Story of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay honestly i think this is my favourite chapter of anything i have ever written? i love writing natasha in this so much.

**_Steve:_ ** _have u heard from him????_

**_Sam:_ ** _heard from who?_

**_Steve:_ ** _bucky!_

**_Sam:_ ** _what?_

_[INCOMING: SAM]_

Steve answered his phone before the first ring had even completed. ‘Have you heard from Bucky?’

‘What do you mean have I heard from Bucky?’ Sam asked. ‘Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know!’ Steve said, his voice pitching up. ‘I have absolutely no idea!’

‘Well… When did you see him last? When did you hear from him last?’

‘He was here, and now he’s gone! He left a note on his bench saying he went to take care of something, but I haven’t heard from him!’

‘Okay, but how long has it been?’ Sam pressed.

‘Nearly three days!’ Steve sat heavily on the couch in his Mom’s living room and clutched his knees. ‘Oh my God, Sam, what if he’s left me?’

‘Why the hell would he do that?’

‘I don’t know? I said I loved him last night, but –’

‘Wait you did?’

Steve groaned. ‘Oh God, I fucked up, didn’t I?’

Sam made an indecisive noise. ‘I mean… Probably not. He has a thing for you, man.’

‘A thing?! I’d hope so, we’re fucking _dating_!’

‘No, like, he wouldn’t just _leave_ you like that. Dude’s an asshole, but he’s _your_ asshole, and you’d be blind not to see it.’

‘Yeah, he is my asshole. He’s a nice asshole.’

‘That feels like too much information,’ Sam grimaced. ‘I’m gonna go. Try not to worry about Bucky. He’ll turn up.’

‘I’m giving him one more day to contact me, then I’m going to the police,’ Steve decided. ‘Is that fair?’

‘I think that’s fair, yeah. Do you want me to come over tonight? I’ll bring you dinner or something so you don’t die while cooking because you’re too distracted.’

‘That would be great, but you don’t have to.’

‘Seven?’

‘Yeah, seven.’

 

* * *

 

_Three days earlier._

Steve woke up with the intent to skip his morning run. Before he even moved or opened his eyes, he had decided to do something romantic for Bucky after the events of the previous night, maybe make him breakfast in bed. Hopefully Bucky had some actual food in his apartment, because Steve wasn’t totally sure Bucky had gone food shopping yet this week.

Steve cracked an eye open and looked across to Bucky’s side of the bed.

He wasn’t expecting to see it empty.

Steve’s mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion possible – Bucky had left him and gone somewhere. Maybe he had woken up earlier than usual and gone for a super early morning run. But without Steve? That was a little weird. They had made an unspoken pact to always wake the other, should they decide to go for a run.

Fuck, maybe Bucky had just beaten him to the punch and was making breakfast? Funny. Steve didn’t see any lights on, or hear anyone moving around.

That was a bad sign.

Steve stepped out of the bed, and padded across the bedroom and out the doorway into the living room. Nothing. Steve ventured further into the apartment, and found no sign of Bucky in the kitchen, either.

But then he spotted a piece of paper on the bench, and his heart dropped. He picked it up tentatively and read it quickly.

‘Oh God,’ Steve murmured. The note said nothing about estimated return time. But that could be hours from now or days from now, or… never. Yeah Steve was still in Bucky’s apartment, but what did that matter? Steve was sure Bucky had more money than his small, one-bedroom place let on. He probably wouldn’t have any problem setting up a new life.

Shit, _had_ Bucky left him? Steve sure as fuck did not want to think that, but he couldn’t help himself.

_Don’t worry about me._

Yeah, sure, Bucky. That was a promise Steve knew he could never keep.

 

* * *

 

_Two days earlier._

Steve had heard nothing from Bucky. Zilch. Nada. Absolute radio silence. He had tried calling him, he had sent texts, but his calls went straight to voicemail, and his texts went unanswered.

Steve had gone home, using Bucky’s spare key from under the totally-not-fake rock in the garden of Bucky’s friendly downstairs neighbour to lock up before he left. (Mrs Peters always tried to pawn off some overcooked shortbread onto Steve when she saw him, but God knew he had enough trouble fending off the same little brick shithouses from his mother’s neighbour.)

‘Are you okay?’ Sarah asked, as Steve came into the house, silent, and probably paler than he had ever been in his life, which was definitely saying something.

‘Hmm?’ Steve looked up from his phone, hitting send on yet another text to Bucky. ‘I’m okay, why?’

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘No, no. I’m… okay. Fine. Mediocre.’

‘Mediocre?’ Sarah raised an eyebrow and left the kitchen to come and inspect her son closer. ‘What happened? Something with Bucky?’

Steve flinched slightly at the mention of his seemingly newly estranged boyfriend. ‘No, why would you think that?’

‘You’re watching your phone like a hawk, I didn’t see you yesterday, and you look stressed. Like you haven’t showered or slept. I’m putting it down to a fight. Am I right?’

‘I don’t know,’ Steve said quietly, checking his phone, as his mother _tsk_ ed loudly. ‘I don’t know what happened.’

‘Explain.’

‘He just… left. He said he had something to take care of, and I haven’t heard from him. He’s ignoring my texts, my calls go to voicemail… I don’t know, Mom.’

Sarah frowned. ‘What else did he say?’

‘He just left a note in the kitchen that said he was going to take care of something and told me not to worry.’

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t worry?’ she suggested. ‘If nothing happened between you to make you think he would run away, then maybe he really has just gone to take care of something. Maybe he’s out of service.’

‘Hmm,’ Steve sighed and slipped his phone into his pocket. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘I usually am, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Now, hand me your phone, and go take a shower. I have the day off, so you’re going to help me with some baking, okay?’

‘What kind of baking?’

‘Does it matter?’ Sarah asked, holding her hand out for his cell. ‘My baking is always amazing. Now, phone, and shower.’

Steve rolled his eyes and took his phone back out his pocket, checking it quickly before putting it in his mother’s palm. ‘I’ll go shower.’

‘Excellent plan. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hayfield.’

‘Thanks, mom.’

 

* * *

 

_One day earlier._

Steve had cycled rapidly through the seven stages of grief in relation to Bucky.

The shock and disbelief had been making regular appearances, denial had been short because clearly Bucky was no longer there, bargaining had been brief and shut down quickly by Sarah, and the guilt had come with wailing and a toddler-like tantrum.

The anger was prolonged, and seemed to be hovering in the background of everything else, the depression had quickly disappeared, thanks to a stern talking to from his mom about “not moping around because of boys”, and the acceptance and hope for Bucky to return quickly had become slightly weird. (Also followed up by a talking to from Sarah about “no strange mutterings”.)

So now Steve was in this semi-limbo state, where he was actively worrying about Bucky, while trying to not care and calm himself down, because Bucky hadn’t said they were over, but also hadn’t _not_ said so.

Sarah tried to tell him that if Bucky wanted to leave, then he wouldn’t have written a note telling him not to worry, he wouldn’t have written a note at _all_ , and he certainly wouldn’t have left Steve alone in his apartment.

Naturally, however, Steve wouldn’t listen, and continued on with his… moping. Sarah got tired of that very quickly, and set him to beating egg whites for the homemade cheesecake. Steve’s arms might not have needed the workout, but it had him complaining about something other than Bucky for a few minutes.

 

* * *

 

_Present day._

Despite his act of not caring, Steve was actually freaking out about Bucky seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth. He hadn’t replied to any texts or any calls, and Steve wasn’t totally unconvinced Bucky was somewhere off lying in a ditch.

So, he called Sam for advice, and decided that Bucky would have one more day to get in contact with him before he got the police involved. Sam had also offered to come over with dinner, which was probably going to end up being an actual, literal lifesaver.

As Steve hung up the phone from Sam and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, he noticed the mail from the previous day had been brought in by his mom. Usually there was nothing in the pile for him, but he flicked through it anyway, just in case.

He wasn’t disappointed.

It seemed like it had been hand delivered, because there was nothing on the envelope, except for _Steve_ written in Bucky’s distinct, sloped cursive hand.

Steve took it from the pile and stared at it for a while, wondering if he should open it or not. Obviously he _wanted_ to, but he didn’t know if it was wise to open it by himself. So, he decided to wait for Sam to arrive. It would definitely be better to have moral support for that.

He didn’t really know what to do with himself for the rest of the day until Sam arrived, so Steve cleaned the apartment. Again. The only thing running through his mind was what Bucky could possibly have written. It made for a very distracting train of thought, and by the time Steve realised it was nearly seven, and he should probably shower or something, he had only cleaned half of the bathroom.

To be fair, the tub had probably never sparkled quite this bright, but still. It had been almost three hours, and that was all he had achieved.

Steve quickly put away all his cleaning items and jumped in the shower, getting out just as there was a noise from the intercom. Steve knew it was Sam, and buzzed him up. (Which was a skill he had since relearned after the first time Sam came around.)

‘Hey, man,’ Sam greeted, grinning as Steve opened the front door. ‘Got somewhere I can put this?’

‘Does it need to be heated?’ Steve asked, as Sam went past him into the kitchen, like it was his own place.

‘Nope, fresh baked outta my Mom’s oven.’

‘I thought you said you were cooking.’

‘I said I would _bring_ dinner. Never said I would make it,’ Sam shrugged and peeled back the foil covering the dish. ‘This is the best pasta you will ever eat in your life.’

‘I have high expectations, then,’ Steve said, raising an eyebrow as he got a couple of bowls from the cupboard and dug out a serving spoon. ‘There are some beers in the fridge.’

‘Way ahead of you, buddy,’ Sam said, bumping his hip against the fridge door to close it. ‘Now, sit down, eat my Mom’s pasta, and tell me your troubles.’

‘Bucky,’ Steve sighed, dropping into a seat at the table and watching Sam dish out a healthy scoop of pasta into the bowls. ‘Bucky is my troubles. All of them.’

‘Yeah, you said,’ Sam pushed a bowl of pasta towards him. ‘So you haven’t heard from him for a few days and that’s it?’

‘What do you mean “that’s it”? He disappeared without a word, and I haven’t heard from him since!’

‘That’s definitely an issue, I agree. And you have no idea why or where he’s gone?’

‘Absolutely none.’

‘Apart from confessing your undying love for him, right?’

Steve groaned. ‘I didn’t confess my undying love, I said I loved him.’

‘Same thing,’ Sam nodded towards the bowl in front of Steve. ‘Eat.’

Steve rolled his eyes, but put a piece of pasta in his mouth to appease Sam anyway. ‘Oh, shit,’ Steve said. ‘This is incredible.’

‘Right?’

Steve was quiet for a few minutes, as he quickly made his way through the food. ‘He sent me a letter, I think.’

‘Huh?’ Sam asked, looking up from his own bowl.

‘I found it in the mail. Hand delivered, I’m pretty sure,’ Steve leaned over the table and plucked the envelope from where he had set it in amongst the apples and bananas in the fruit bowl. ‘I haven’t opened it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t know what it’s going to say, so I thought maybe some moral support would be better for when I did.’

‘That moral support being me, right?’

‘Right.’

Sam sat back in his chair. ‘Open it, then.’

Steve blinked. ‘Now?’

‘Now’s a good a time as any.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

Sam watched Steve hold the letter in his hands for a few moments, not doing anything with it, before he asked, ‘So are you going to open it or hope it speaks to you like a Howler from _Harry Potter_ or something?’

Steve frowned and looked up to Sam. ‘Can you just not do that for a minute?’

‘Do what?’

‘Speak.’

‘Sorry.’

Steve didn’t know if he wanted to do this, not really. But he was going to anyway, because he _knew_ this was from Bucky, and he knew it would be important. So, he turned it over and flicked his finger under the lip of the envelope and took out the letter.

The paper seemed to be scented (?) and had a heavy feel to it, like it was heavy from the words, thoughts, and emotions it held. Steve looked up to Sam as he unfolded it, and began to read.

> _Steve,_
> 
> _I know I’ve gone MIA, and I know I haven’t given you an explanation. If this works, I won’t need to, or at least… I think that’s what’s supposed to happen. Don’t worry if this doesn’t make sense._
> 
> _If things go badly, a woman named Natasha has been asked to come see you and explain everything. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope I get to see you again. I hope everything catches up with you, but doesn’t catch up to me._
> 
> _I don’t want to die, Steve, but I’ve lived longer than my years should’ve been, and I’m at peace with it if I do. The world would not miss me, but everyone would miss you. I gladly die to save you, should that be what this comes to. Don’t weep for me, Steve. Don’t waste your life crying over me as I have done crying over you for so long._
> 
> _That won’t make sense, either. Natasha will explain. I think you’ll like her, Steve. Natasha knows everything, so you can ask her what you need to know, and she’ll tell you. I trust her. She will tell you the truth, Steve._
> 
> _If this is to be all I will say to you before it comes to an end, I just want you to know._
> 
> _It was always you, Stevie. You’re the one I’ve been waiting so long for. I’ve never been able to tell you this before, and I hope this doesn’t count, or I’ll be off to my grave for nothing, but I’m not really saying it out loud, so you’ll never be touched by it. ~~That won’t make sense to you, either.~~ You, Steven Grant Rogers, Captain of the U.S. Army, you’re it for me. After you, I’m done. If this works, even if it doesn’t, I’ll see you soon._
> 
> _This time, I’ll find a way._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Always have, and always will._
> 
> _-B._

Steve looked back up from the letter to Sam’s face. ‘What the hell does any of that mean?’

Sam blinked, for once, apparently speechless. He shook his head and shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to tell you, but I don’t think he left because he doesn’t love you.’

‘I…’ Steve put the letter on the table, looking back over the words, reading and rereading them until _“I love you”_ in Bucky’s hand was burned onto his retinas. ‘He said he loves me.’

‘He did,’ Sam agreed. ‘He loves you.’

‘He loves me,’ Steve smiled. ‘He loves me.’

And then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

_Three days earlier._

Growing up, Natasha had always been told the same thing. She had heard it from her grandmother, who had heard it from her grandmother, who had heard it from hers, going back generations upon generations, always the same thing.

_When the Lover comes, it is your duty to decide to help._

Natasha had never understood what it meant, and she thought it would be a sort of heirloom she would one day pass on to her own granddaughter. But now, sitting here with Bucky, and listening to his story, Natasha knew what it meant.

Bucky was the Lover. He was the one that Natasha’s babushka had told her about. The one that however many women that had come before Natasha in her family had been told about.

_Our fate is twined with that of the Lover, and when he comes, because he will, it is up to you to decide whether he is worthy of help._

Natasha had always thought that if someone needed help, and they came to her, she would say yes, of course. It would be cruel _not_ to help someone. This, too, was something she now understood.

Bucky had asked for his lover to be brought back from the dead out of selfishness. He had thought he wouldn’t be able to live without him, this man, _Dmitri_ , Bucky had said, and he had been tormented with endless incarnations and deaths of him all over again. All because he loved a man too much to let him go.

Natasha understood.

This curse (because it _was_ a curse) was no simple thing to remove. The only thing keeping Bucky alive was the recurrence of his Dmitri, and the only thing tying the products of that recurrence to the earth was Bucky. To save one might mean the death of the other, no matter what Natasha did.

‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, lacing her fingers and studying Bucky across the table.

Bucky looked down at the screen of his phone for a few moments, before he moved his eyes up to her face, his voice steady as he replied, ‘I need you to save him.’

Natasha cocked her head as she remembered something else her grandmother had said.

_When he cares more for the other than himself, he is ready._

‘Why?’

‘Why do I need you to save him?’ Bucky clarified, eyebrows shooting up.

‘Yeah, why do you need me to save him? Assuming I can.’

‘Steve…’ Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘He’s more important than me. He’s a better person, he has people who love him, people who care and would miss him if he died. I don’t. He deserves to live a long and happy life, even if that means I don’t get to see him do it. Steve needs to live.’

‘And?’

‘And for once in my life, I’m the expendable one. Who would miss me if I died? No one. I have no one. I have Steve, and I have Steve’s friends, but I have no one. Steve has everyone.’

Natasha tilted her head the other way. ‘So?’

Bucky huffed and clasped his hands together in front of himself. ‘Look, I have always fallen in love with every version of Dmitri that ever came into my life. All of them, every single one, and Steve was no exception. I knew he wouldn’t be. Except, he _is_ an exception. The way he makes me feel is brighter and stronger than any of the others, _including_ Dmitri. Steve is my soulmate, and I know that sounds so _stupid_ , but it’s true.

‘I will literally get on my knees and beg you if I have to, because I’m shit out of options, and I’m a desperate man trying to save the one he… the one he loves. Steve needs to live, and I am more than happy to give myself for it to happen. I’m not doing this for myself, I’m doing this for him. Please.’

Natasha exhaled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she considered. ‘You would do anything to save him?’

‘Anything. He needs to live.’

Natasha bit her lip, decision made, and nodded slowly. ‘There is a way I can help you.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky went back to Natasha’s apartment that night. He helped her search through piles of old, leather bound books, heavy with ink and ancient magic.

Natasha hadn’t told him what to look for, so while she was swiftly making her way through books, he was taking his time, pawing through the pages while filled with the feeling that _he shouldn’t be doing this._

While they were looking for… whatever it was, Natasha and Bucky talked. At times, it felt like she knew more about Bucky than he did, and despite that she insisted she was nothing more than a tarot reader, Bucky doubted it. Natasha was one with her books, and moved comfortably through her apartment, filled with crystals and other bits and pieces she had instructed Bucky not to touch.

Natasha belonged here, in this small den of magic she had made for herself. She gave off a vibe that Bucky could only describe as _power_ , so he made sure to listen to her and not piss her off, because that would not end well for him, and she didn’t even have to tell him that for him to know. She knew things, and she knew how to work magic, and Bucky was honestly a little afraid of her.

She was a wonderful person, full of light, laughter, and kindness. But at the same time, she seemed like she wouldn’t hesitate to break bones or rip out someone’s throat with her teeth. Natasha was like the magic Bucky had grown up with – she was to be respected, and she was to be feared. Natasha was a force of nature, and Bucky was not about to fuck with her.

Bucky knew she was on to something, when she stopped moving, and inhaled sharply. ‘Here,’ she breathed. ‘This is what I need.’

Bucky looked up from the gold leaf page he was admiring, and saw the gleam of satisfaction and excitement in Natasha’s eyes, as she studied the book in her hands. ‘What is it?’

Natasha grinned as she read the words before her. ‘It’s…’ her smile dropped and she glanced over to him. ‘What are you prepared to risk for this?’

‘I’ve told you. Kill me if need be. Steve lives, no matter the cost.’

‘What if it risks Steve’s life, as well as your own?’ she asked slowly. ‘This is the magic I need, but it could kill you both.’

‘Could it save Steve?’ Bucky pressed. ‘Does this give him a better chance than no action?’

‘Yes, but if I fail, he _will_ die. You may also die, but failure means the death of Steve, with no more incarnations afterwards. The risk is much greater for him, you understand?’

_Oh._ ‘So it could kill him… permanently?’ At Natasha’s nod, Bucky rubbed his neck and sighed deeply. ‘Would I still be immortal?’

‘I don’t know. It might just succeed in breaking the ties that keep bringing Dmitri back, so you would continue to live and you would just be… well. Alone.’

‘Is there any way you can remove my immortality?’

‘I don’t know that either. Probably. But if your goal is to save Steve, then this is your best chance.’

‘Can you do it?’ Bucky asked. ‘Can you perform the spell or ritual or whatever? Can you break this _fucking_ curse?’

Natasha nodded slowly. ‘I can. But I can’t guarantee it will work, and I’m not going to force you to do it.’

‘What’s the odds of it working?’

‘Well…’ Natasha coughed awkwardly. ‘It’s never been done before because this was written for _you_ when you eventually turned up. It’s never been tested, but I’d say it’s a high risk sorta thing.’

‘Shit,’ Bucky groaned, dropping his head on the table and taking deep breaths, the scent of old books and old wood filling his nose.

‘I’ll give you a couple of days to think about it, but I need you to tell me before Thursday. It needs to be done on a full moon, and the next one is Friday.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah.’

 

* * *

 

_Two days earlier._

Bucky needed to think this through. Thoroughly.

Either he left things how they were, with Steve being a dead man walking, or he risked their lives and accepted Natasha’s offer of breaking the curse. Which might end up with Steve dead anyway, no more Steves coming after him, and Bucky still the sad, lonely immortal.

Of course, Bucky knew what he _wanted_ to do. If there was a chance he could live to see the day where he and Steve would grow old together, saying _I love you_ whenever they wanted, then that seemed like the only option.

He couldn’t watch Steve die again. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t.

Steve would be his last, and Bucky would make damn fucking sure of it.

 

* * *

 

_One day earlier._

‘Bucky, I hate to rush you, but I need an answer,’ Natasha said, entering her pseudo-library.

Bucky looked over to her in the doorway from where he was sitting upside down on her armchair, his hair brushing the hardwood floor. ‘Let’s just go over this once more.’

Natasha rolled her eyes and made her way to the pile of cushions under the window. ‘Sure.’

‘So, leaving things as they are, I’m going to live, Steve will die, and more Steves will turn up, as they always have.’

‘Correct.’

‘If I accept your offer, I’m risking both our lives. Best case scenario, Steve and I both live, and die as old men, unless this curse likes me pretty and I stay immortal.’

‘It’s quite likely you’ll actually become mortal,’ Natasha said. ‘But I’m not sure if everything will catch up to you, _a la Dorian Gray_ , or if you’ll just start aging again.’

‘Right, so that’s best case scenario.’

‘Yep.’

‘And worst case scenario,’ Bucky frowned. ‘Is that Steve dies, no more Steves turn up, and I stay immortal, until I get you to remove _that_ so I can fucking finally die. _Or_ , I could die, and Steve will live.’

‘Yep.’

‘So really, I only have one choice.’

Natasha shrugged. ‘Not true. You have two choices – leave things as they are, or fuck with them. Choose to fuck with them, and this could go in any direction.’

‘Hmm.’

‘So?’ Natasha asked. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Well, I have to at least _try_ , right?’

Natasha smiled. ‘You wanna do this?’

‘Let’s do it,’ Bucky nodded. ‘Let’s fuck with magic.’

 

* * *

 

Bucky had asked Natasha for a piece of paper and an envelope. He knew Steve would be worrying out of his mind right now, and since he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if they got to texting or speaking on the phone, he decided to go old fashioned and write a letter.

The last time he had felt paper like this was well over a century ago, and Bucky suddenly missed that one really good, easy to write with quill he had once owned. He wondered where that had got to. He also wondered how Natasha came to have paper like this. She just raised an eyebrow when he asked.

So, Bucky wrote his letter to Steve, giving in and letting himself pour his emotions onto the paper, just like the ink. He figured _writing_ his first _I love you_ to Steve didn’t count as if he had said it. At least, he hoped not.

Bucky hand delivered the letter to Steve’s building, slipping it into the mail slot, and making a hasty exit. He and Natasha needed to prepare for tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

_Present day._

Bucky had had some trouble sleeping the previous night, to say the least.

Natasha stayed in her little den, a single, small light casting a glow on her as she studied the book she needed, practicing the way the words sounded, rolling them through her mouth and making sure her pronunciation would be perfect to give them the best chance possible. She was visible from where Bucky was lying on her couch, with the light dancing through her hair, making the gentle waves and curls look like flames.

Natasha suited her job. She had an ancient soul, like her craft, like her books. It wouldn’t be too bad of a thing to watch her envelop herself in her work, if this was to be Bucky’s last night on this earth.

Bucky liked her. He would’ve liked to know her under different circumstances from these.

 

* * *

 

‘Are you ready?’ Natasha asked, knocking on the door to her bathroom. Bucky had been in there for nearly an hour, and she was getting a bit worried at this point. She tried the door handle and found it unlocked, so she opened it slowly and peeked her head inside. ‘Bucky?’

Bucky turned from the mirror to look at her, and suddenly, Natasha saw him. She saw everything he had been through, all his years, all his fighting. It was written in the way the lines around his eyes seemed deeper, how his hair seemed to have lost some of its life, how his eyes were old. _Bucky_ was old. Bucky was tired, and he’d had enough.

So was Bucky ready? Was he prepared to finally put an end to this? Was he prepared to die, or lose his actual soulmate? Because Steve was nothing less than that to him. In her life, Natasha had seen a lot of things, not as much as Bucky, but she had seen things. In her line of work, Natasha had come across maybe two other occasions where people had found their soulmates, but they had nothing on what Bucky had gone through for his.

She doubted anyone was more committed to a single person than Bucky was. She doubted anyone ever would be again.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky said, tucking his hair behind his ears, everything Natasha had just seen in his face disappearing. ‘I’m ready.’

‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

Bucky followed Natasha into her den, and followed her instructions to stand in the circle of candles she had put down on the floor. There were sigils Bucky didn’t recognise drawn in chalk, placed intermittently between the candles, and he really hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.

‘Bucky?’ Natasha asked softly, drawing his attention to where she was standing at her desk, the book in her hands. ‘Is there anything you want to say at all? Because once I start, you can’t interrupt me.’

‘Just… If this goes wrong, don’t forget to go find Steve. If he’s even still alive. Tell him everything, like we discussed.’ Bucky sniffed and rubbed harshly at his eyes, fear and adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins. ‘And please don’t fuck this up, Natasha.’

Natasha gave him a small smile. ‘I won’t.’

‘I would appreciate that. And thank you for helping me. I know you could’ve turned me down.’

‘It’s my job to help,’ she said. ‘Okay, just relax. Don’t say anything, don’t move from that spot, just relax. You good?’

‘I’m good,’ Bucky confirmed. ‘Go.’

Natasha took a deep breath and started reading, the words on the page tumbling from her mouth like she had been born to read them. Maybe she had. Maybe their fates had always been tied to this. Maybe Natasha had been created to help Bucky. Maybe Bucky was always meant to come here, to New York, to find Steve and fall in love with him. Maybe Bucky was never really meant to know or love Dmitri.

Maybe someone had fucked up and brought Bucky into this world too soon to know Steve, and rather than doing something about it, like bringing _Steve_ earlier into the world, they just decided Bucky should fuck up and get magic involved. Maybe Bucky was always meant to suffer, _just_ to get to this point in history where he could meet Steve. The one, true person he was supposed to be with.

Bucky knew that was a stupid thought, but it was all that was giving him comfort as the ancient words Natasha spoke weaved themselves around him, like vines, strangling the curse from his bones. Bucky could feel the magic seeping into him, and it scared him.

Everything could be coming to an end, right now. He and Steve, they could both be living their final moments right now, apart and alone. Bucky, scared, and Steve having no idea what was happening.

But the Fates, if they had decided Bucky and Steve were meant to be, then this would work. This would save Steve, and it would free Bucky, and they could finally, _finally_ , be together. _That_ was what kept Bucky from crumbling, from falling apart. He and Steve would finally be allowed to _live_.

Even so, as Bucky felt the magic creep into his soul, as he felt _burning_ inside him, he couldn’t help but also feel water falling down his face.

It might’ve been fear, it might’ve been joy, it might’ve been a combination of a hundred different things that came together and had him crying, but that didn’t change the fact that he _was_. Hopefully, these would be the last tears he would ever shed for this man, the one true love of his life.

Fuck Dmitri, fuck Joseph, and Ben, and every other version of his man he had loved. Steve was all. Steve was why he was still on this earth.

It was that thought that comforted him as Natasha’s voice faded, and the burning spread over his skin, enveloping him as he fell into darkness.


	7. A Story of Togetherness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here it is. the last chapter. i had a lot of fun writing this over the last three and a half months, even though it drove me up the wall half the time. hopefully you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it. also, thanks to everyone leaving kudos/comments etc! y'all have been giving me life.
> 
> and again - huge thank you to my betas, kat and chloë, and to my wonderful artists, retaltyp and dadbob! also, thank u to my bae, [jade](http://cuddlysebastian.tumblr.com) for the enthusiasm, making me write, and helping me with the issues i ran into along the way, even though i don't think they knew what i was talking about half the time. oops.
> 
> anyway - here's the last chapter. hopefully it's a fitting end.

Bucky had always loved the sound of string instruments. There was something soothing about them, how clear and smooth the notes were when played right. Bucky was, not by his own admission, relatively skilled at the violin, but he wasn’t the one playing today.

He had finally used up some of his accumulated wealth and purchased an estate in the middle of fucking nowhere, and had thrown a feast and organised a ball to celebrate his arrival. Also, he needed some friends and this seemed like the best way to find them, but that was irrelevant for the moment.

It wasn’t like Bucky had _no_ friends right now, just none in this particular section of the country. A few months ago, he had run into another one of _them_. The ever recurrent lover. His name was William, and as usual, he had made himself known to Bucky. He had made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in the girls fawning over him at the balls they had previously attended together, and had cornered Bucky several times, making his intentions towards him quite clear.

Bucky, as usual, was reciprocating those feelings before William even knew his name. Damn it all to hell. Bucky had needed to get out of there as soon as he possibly could. So, he had packed up his things from the guest house he was staying in, and had found himself a chunk of land with a house attached, as far away as he could.

Which was how he had come to be here, in the Irish countryside.

Alone.

Without William.

Hopefully saving him from the ever impending untimely death, and surrounded by people he didn’t know, who had no idea of his plight and what was now a constant thought in his head – _“What if he wouldn’t die this time?”_

Bucky hadn’t wanted to take any chances, though. Let William be happy with another confirmed bachelor. Let him be free from Bucky.

Bucky surveyed the dancers on the floor from his perch on the staircase, the women’s dresses swirling, twisting gracefully together as the couples twirled across the dancefloor. Bucky grabbed a small item of food as a servant walked past with a tray, putting it in his mouth and eating it without tasting.

He could fill his house with as many people as he could find, try to drown out his thoughts with the music and chatter of his guests, but now he knew Dmitri was back from the dead, he would just end up suffering in silence until he was certain William was gone.

‘Mister Barnes,’ a low voice greeted. ‘It’s been a while.’

Bucky turned, and of course – _of course_ – it was William. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to see you,’ William smiled. ‘I couldn’t very well let you host a ball without me.’

Bucky huffed and turned back to watch the floor again. ‘How did you find me?’

‘When a Buchanan Barnes turns up out of nowhere and is suddenly one of the richest men in the country, people talk.’

‘People should keep to themselves,’ Bucky muttered.

‘They should,’ William agreed. ‘But they don’t. Why did you leave?’

‘I have my reasons.’

‘Was it me? Was it because of what I said?’

‘It…’ Bucky turned back to William and sighed, nodding towards a hallway that led away from the noise. ‘We should talk.’

William raised an eyebrow but followed Bucky, who shut the door behind them gently, separating them from the rest of the guests. ‘We can pretend I said nothing, if it bothers you.’

‘It doesn’t,’ Bucky shook his head. ‘Trust me.’

‘Then what?’

‘I don’t want you to be hurt because of me. It always happens.’

‘I can defend myself.’

‘I know, but not from this.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’ William asked, after a moment of silence. ‘I will, if you need.’

‘I _don’t_ ,’ Bucky said. ‘I don’t want you to, but… it would be for the best.’

William made to open the door behind them. ‘Then I will leave.’

‘Not yet,’ Bucky said, putting a hand on William’s arm to stop him. ‘We can have this night.’

‘But then tomorrow..?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow,’ William nodded. ‘For now, shall we dance?’

‘Not here,’ Bucky said, shifting his hand down William’s arm to gently tug on his fingers. ‘Come with me.’

William grinned, twining their fingers together, as Bucky led them down halls and towards his bedroom.

Once safely in Bucky’s room, he shut the door, then turned back to William and bowed. ‘I would be honoured to take this dance.’

Bucky was a worse dancer than most, and William knew that, so instead of doing the same complicated steps of the guests in the ballroom, they just swayed, humming their own tune.

‘I will miss you,’ William murmured, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. ‘I do love you, Buchanan.’

_There it is._ Bucky sighed. ‘I know.’

‘Though if you will not say it to me, I understand.’

Bucky stepped away from William, and went to stand by the fire. ‘I am sorry.’

‘I know,’ William said, appearing at Bucky’s elbow. ‘I do.’

‘Will you stay tonight? With me?’

‘If that is what you wish.’

‘It is,’ Bucky nodded, turning back to William. ‘My bed here is certainly big enough to host you as well.’

William chuckled. ‘Show me.’

 

* * *

 

Even if Steve had been there at a time when Bucky suffered through that flashback, he wouldn’t have needed to check his body to know that he was okay.

To this day, Bucky didn’t know how William had died. He was there when Bucky went to sleep, and gone when he woke up. He didn’t hear from William again, and the only way he knew he had died, was because a few years later, Bucky ran into another one of him.

In America.

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke to the sound of ringing filling his ears. He blinked dazedly as he came around, pushing himself up from where he had apparently fallen onto the floor, and been left there by Natasha.

‘Nat?’ he croaked, looking around and seeing her sitting in the armchair, head in her hands, foot bouncing nervously. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh my God,’ Natasha whispered, her eyes wide. ‘Bucky?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I feel…’ Bucky squinted in the light and rubbed his temple. ‘I feel weird. Do I look weird? Am I dead?’

‘No, you’re alive,’ Natasha said slowly. ‘You look fine. You did black out for a while, though.’

‘How long is “a while” exactly?’

‘Uhh… a little over an hour.’

‘Jesus,’ Bucky muttered. ‘So I guess you succeeded in not killing me.’

Natasha shrugged. ‘It could be a delayed death, you never know.’

‘If you’re fucking with me, now is not the time, because I have just had a near death experience and I’m a little on edge.’

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to say something witty and a little sarcastic, when she was interrupted by a Bucky’s phone going off loudly on the table beside her.

‘ _Jesus_ ,’ Bucky hissed, clutching his shirt as his heart skipped a beat or five. ‘Throw me that?’

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she quickly read the screen and tossed it over. ‘It’s a good thing you’re sitting down.’

‘Why?’ Bucky asked, catching his phone. ‘Oh, _shit_.’

‘Yeah,’ Natasha said, a smile spreading slowly over her face. ‘It’s Steve.’

 

* * *

 

_‘I love you,’_ whispered, a flash of blue eyes, and the touch of roaming hands. A sharp, burning pain in his abdomen. A scream, and black.

_‘She’s your dog,’_ grumbled, those blue eyes rolling, and the sound of clothes falling to the floor. A deep, dark pain. Flesh being pulled from his bones, life draining from his wounds. The sound of wolves howling, and black.

_‘Your mother thinks I’m a bad influence. If only she knew,’_ sighed, an amused smile, and a hip bumping against his own. The smell of salt in the air, wind whipping through his hair. A biting, searing pain, peppered across his body. Someone sobbing, and black.

_‘Will you stay tonight?’_ murmured, dark eyelashes brushing pale skin, and a gentle touch to his arm. A knock in the road, a jammed door, and a flooding carriage. The sound of his own heartbeat echoing through his head, water filling his lungs, and black.

_‘You’re my best friend here,’_ whispered, a sad smile, and a hand tightly holding his own. Humid air, the weight of a gun in his hands, and the _swish_ of something cutting through the air. Someone singing, a bright blue sky, and black.

And _Bucky_.

Always his last thought, always the same, and always there.

 

* * *

 

_Five minutes earlier._

‘Steve, are you okay?’ Sam’s voice was quiet, but slowly getting clearer and louder in Steve’s ear. ‘Steve, oh my God, your mom is gonna kill me if you have a concussion.’

Steve groaned and cracked open his eyes, glancing up at Sam, who was apparently hovering very near him. ‘What did I miss?’

‘You just… fell off your chair. Like a dead bird.’

‘A dead bird?’ Steve slowly righted himself and rubbed at the same of his face. ‘How long was I out?’

‘Like an hour,’ Sam said, helping him up, back into his chair. He made sure Steve was steady, and went to get a glass of water. ‘You dehydrated or something? Have you been eating?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Steve said, sipping the water, and putting his head on the table with a groan. ‘I feel like shit. Did you poison me or something? Wait, why did you leave me on the floor for an _hour_?!’

‘I didn’t know what to do with you, you’re a fucking lump,’ Sam shrugged. ‘And I hope not, my mom made this. Maybe she’s trying to poison _me_.’

‘I don’t think your mom would poison you. She seems like she would just straight up kill you and not bother to be sneaky. Like I might, because you _left me on the floor_.’

‘You were breathing and not bleeding, I didn’t think it was a medical emergency, but true,’ Sam agreed. ‘Do you want… I don’t know. Something?’

Steve tilted his head to give Sam an incredulous look. ‘I’m so glad you were the last resort medic in your team. I’ll be fine. You can sit down and stop fidgeting.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, I’ve had worse.’

‘Really?’

‘I was in the army. I got shot. Worse things have happened than fainting.’

Sam leaned forward. ‘You got shot?’

_Damn._ ‘Yes, can we move on?’

‘To what?’

‘To any –’

_I love you. Burning. Your dog. Shredding. Your mother. Biting. Stay tonight. Drowning. Bucky._

_Bucky, Bucky, Bucky._

He understood. Bucky had been loving him for longer than he had been alive. Steve had been living so many different lives and just never known it, but now he did. He had been dying and living, over and over, and Bucky had been there for all of it. Steve understood.

He gasped, as so many images flashed through his mind, interrupting whatever Sam had been saying. ‘Bucky,’ he whispered.

‘Steve?’ Sam asked, blinking at the outburst, and putting his hand out to stop Steve from possibly falling to the floor again. ‘You okay, buddy?’

‘I need to find Bucky,’ Steve stood sharply and grabbed his phone off the table, running towards the front door and grabbing his keys from the hook. ‘Stay here in case he comes here!’

‘Steve, what the _hell_ is going on?’ Sam called, following him through to the stairwell. ‘Steve!’

‘I have to find Bucky!’ Steve yelled, sprinting down the stairs and out onto the street.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he ran anyway, quickly unlocking his phone and dialling Bucky’s number.

 

* * *

 

‘It’s Steve,’ Natasha said, nodding at the phone in Bucky’s hands. ‘Answer it!’

‘What if it’s not him?’ Bucky asked, holding the phone gently, like the slightest disturbance could accept the call for him.

‘It’s him! Pick it up!’

Bucky dithered for less than a second, before he answered the call. ‘Hello?’ he said tentatively.

‘She was _our_ dog!’ Steve yelled at him.

‘Who was?’

‘Summer!’

‘Holy shit,’ Bucky breathed, standing up swiftly. ‘Steve?’

‘She wasn’t just my dog, and you should’ve told Harper to lower the sails and ignore me!’ Steve continued. It sounded like he was running, if the occasional hitch in his voice was anything to go by. ‘And why the _fuck_ did you go to Ireland without me?!’

‘Oh my God, Steve,’ Bucky ran his hand through his hair, trying to think quickly of a plan. ‘Steve, where are you?’

‘I’m… I don’t know where I am!’

‘Head to the park, okay? I’m on my way, I’ll meet you there.’

Steve was quiet, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, like he had stopped running and caught his breath. ‘Hey, Buck?’

‘Yeah?’ Bucky asked, pausing as he crammed his feet into his boots.

‘Do you think Dum Dum is still kicking?’

Bucky sighed and laughed somewhat sadly. ‘Yeah, he is.’

‘I have a bike,’ Natasha said quietly, nodding her head towards her door. ‘Need a ride?’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Bucky said. ‘Steve, I’m coming to you, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Steve?’

‘Yeah?’

Bucky took a deep breath, and looked to Natasha, who nodded encouragingly. ‘This isn’t how I wanted to do this, I mean, I’d imagined something slightly more romantic, maybe, not on the phone. But… I… love you.’

Steve was quiet again, and Bucky was beginning to think the curse hadn’t been broken, when Steve replied. ‘Elvis proposed on the phone from his toilet, you know.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not Elvis, and I sure as fuck ain’t proposing, Rogers.’

‘Yet?’ Steve asked, a slight bit of hope bleeding into his tone.

Bucky grinned. ‘Yet.’

 

* * *

 

Being on the back of Natasha’s motorcycle, as she sped towards the park Bucky told her about, was probably one of the most stressful things he had ever done. It wasn’t just because he was pretty sure she was going at least twice the speed limit and he didn’t have a helmet (Natasha clearly never had passengers), but because at the end of this, he would be seeing Steve.

Fuck, he had felt so bad having left him alone in the apartment, with only a note for company. It had hurt Bucky to cut off contact with him, especially as he knew Steve worried. Steve worried _a lot_. He had probably thought Bucky was dead in a ditch somewhere, or maybe that he had left him with nothing but a vague note.

He wasn’t sure what was worse.

As they came nearer to the park between Bucky’s and Steve’s mom’s apartments, Bucky found himself holding tighter onto Natasha, like she was his anchor to this world, and if he lost grip on her, he would float away. When the park came into view, his fingers somehow twisted themselves even further into the fabric of Natasha’s jacket, and she patted his hands comfortingly.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she murmured, coming to a stop and pulling up beside the park. ‘Go find him.’

‘He’s not going to die?’ Bucky asked as they climbed off the bike, his voice much smaller than he had been expecting.

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘The curse is done with.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Bucky said, putting his arms around her and hugging her tightly. ‘I owe you.’

‘Nah,’ Natasha shrugged. ‘Just doing my part. Now, go _find_ him. I’ll be right after you.’

‘We’ll be the ones fucking in the grass!’ Bucky called, saluting her as he sprinted into the park.

He and Steve hadn’t exactly organised where to meet up, but unlike a normal person, Steve wasn’t going to make this easy, and had gone further into the park than the entrance. Maybe he had just wandered off. Steve tended to move a lot when he was nervous.

Bucky came to a halt and surveyed the park, as far as he could see. To his right was the field of grass, full of people enjoying the last rays of the day’s sunlight. Right across the grass, Bucky spotted a familiar blond head of hair.

‘Steve!’ he yelled, making a beeline, starting to sprint all out towards him. ‘ _Steve!’_

Steve had, somehow, heard him, despite the distance between them. Or maybe he had some kind of radar that picked up when Bucky was near, because Bucky saw him yell back and start heading towards him, but didn’t hear his voice.

_Shit, shit, shit._ Bucky’s internal monologue was freaking the fuck out at that moment. Steve was so close, but so _fucking far away_.

It was a strange kind of symmetry, kind of like poetry in motion. The first time Bucky had seen Steve, he ran away from him over this field. Now, here he was – completely and utterly, head over heels in love with this guy, running towards him like he was mirage of an oasis in the desert, and he was about to disappear.

Fuck, Bucky was so desperately hoping this was all real. If he was about to wake up, still on the floor of Natasha’s apartment, told that Steve had fucking _died_ or something, he would be so fucking far beyond pissed off.

The closer Bucky and Steve got to each other, the clearer Steve’s voice was as he yelled Bucky’s name.

_This had to be real._ The tears running down Bucky’s cheeks sure as fuck were.

‘Steve!’ Bucky yelled, one more time, before he came to a stop and Steve crashed into him, wrapping his arms around him tight enough to break ribs.

‘Bucky, oh my God,’ Steve was crying as well, and it made Bucky feel like less of a dork as he realised that.

‘Steve, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,’ Bucky babbled, throwing his arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him down. ‘I never wanted to leave you, I never wanted to hurt you.’

‘I know,’ Steve nodded, leaning his head against Bucky’s shoulder, pressing kisses into the patch of skin at the crux of his throat. ‘I never knew, I’m so sorry.’

‘None of this is your fault. This is all me, Steve. I did this.’

‘You didn’t do this, Bucky.’

‘I did, I’ve killed you so many times, Steve. I couldn’t do it again. Not to you.’

‘The others weren’t me, Buck,’ Steve whispered, rocking them soothingly. _How could Steve be so understanding about this?_ ‘I’m still here. I’ll always be here.’

‘Promise?’

‘Of course. Always.’

A throat cleared behind them, and Bucky reluctantly removed his head from Steve’s chest to look up and find Natasha watching them, an eyebrow raised. ‘I was told you would be having sex in the grass, and honestly, I’m slightly disappointed you’re not.’

Bucky gave a watery laugh and moved into Steve’s side, still trying to maintain as much contact with him as he could. ‘Steve, this is Natasha. She helped me.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Steve said, nodding his thanks, because he knew there was no point in trying to dislodge Bucky. (Not that he wanted to.) ‘I owe you.’

‘It’s fine,’ Natasha smiled. ‘Neither of you owe me anything. It’s my duty to help.’

‘You’ve done so much for us. How can we thank you? Really?’

Natasha shrugged. ‘Invite me to the wedding, let me be someone’s best man..?’

‘Done,’ Bucky said, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘I don’t have any friends to be my best man.’

‘Thought you said you weren’t proposing?’ Steve commented lightly.

‘I’m not, but it’s good to have these things organised.’

‘Mm, true,’ Steve agreed, dropping a kiss to Bucky’s hair. ‘Hey, Buck?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I love you,’ Steve whispered.

Bucky looked up and smiled a little, before he replied, ‘I love you.’

‘Aww, you two are so cute,’ Natasha said. While it sounded snarky, the gathering of water in her eyes made clear that she wasn’t being sarcastic. ‘You two wanna repay my awesome skills?’

‘Absolutely,’ Steve nodded.

‘Alright then,’ Natasha grinned. ‘Go home and fuck like bunnies. Please. Don’t hold out.’

‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Bucky said, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and nodding towards the exit of the park. ‘Shall we?’

‘It would be my honour,’ Steve smiled.

‘Text me tomorrow so I know you two are still alive, yeah?’ Natasha said, as the three of them started heading back.

‘Will do. Hopefully we will be. I’d hate to lose him again,’ Bucky said, bumping his hip into Steve.

Steve returned the hip check and momentarily tightened his grip of Bucky’s shoulder. ‘Nah, you’re never getting rid of me.’

 

* * *

 

_Three days later._

No one was exactly sure why Steve and Bucky had called a meeting at Steve’s mom’s apartment, but they turned up anyway. Sam started off acting understandably frosty towards Bucky and his new lady bestie, Natasha, after what Bucky’s disappearance had done to Steve. He had since warmed back up to their usual tepid temperature of interaction, because clearly Steve didn’t care, so why should he?

They had given Sam (and Peggy, and Sarah) a brief explanation of what had happened – something about a dead phone and no money and running into his old friend, Natasha, who offered to take him in until he was sorted. Something along those lines. They had kept it rather vague.

So while Bucky and Steve were talking to their friends (and family), Natasha had taken it upon herself to make dinner, seeing as she was sticking close by to Steve and Bucky for a few days anyway, just to make sure there wasn’t a delayed fuck up from the removal of the curse, so she figured she would make herself useful.

Natasha assumed the conversation had gone well, because around the time dinner was finishing up cooking, they all streamed into the kitchen from the living room, and started setting the table. She watched Steve and Bucky move around the kitchen, bumping into each other and grinning, but also stepping around each other like they knew exactly where the other would go. They probably did. These two had one of the strongest soul bonds she had ever encountered, so she knew they probably knew each other and their movements better than they knew themselves.

When the table was set, and the food had been laid out, with everyone dishing out food for their own plates and each other’s, Bucky cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention.

‘We have some news,’ Steve announced, glancing to Bucky with a small smile, before looking back towards everyone else. ‘In case you’re all wondering why you’re here.’

‘I’m here because I live here,’ Sarah said lightly.

‘Apart from that.’

‘You’re not _pregnant_ are you, Steve?’ Sam asked, clutching his imaginary pearls. ‘Is _Bucky_ pregnant? Who’s pregnant?’

‘Not totally sure you understand the logistics of our relationship,’ Bucky deadpanned. ‘Neither of us have the means to carry a child.’

‘Not true,’ Steve mused. ‘We have arms.’

‘You’re not funny,’ Bucky said, rolling his eyes, but smiling all the same. ‘Anyway, our news.’

‘No one is pregnant,’ Steve said. ‘And no, we’re not getting married. But we are moving in together.’

‘Oh, that’s fantastic!’ Peggy smiled, seeming to genuinely mean it. She hadn’t given Bucky the same reception as Sam, and had embraced him briefly when she arrived at the apartment. She thought his disappearance probably had something to do with the past he wasn’t telling Steve about, so she understood it better than Sam did. Didn’t stop him from frowning at her from behind Bucky, though.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Sam asked. ‘I mean, I’m happy for you, and I’m happy you’re happy, but he _did_ just up and leave without a trace for like three days. Are you sure you want to _move in_ with him?’

Steve narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘Yes. Bucky and I have talked about it, and I know he won’t do that again. We’re not keeping secrets, and I pretty much live there already, anyway. This is just the formal announcement, really.’

Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but was stopped by Peggy. ‘Sam, I know you’re thinking about what _you_ would do, but I know that Bucky and Steve have a more complicated relationship than they let on, so perhaps you should cut them some slack and just be happy for them?’

Sam huffed. ‘I suppose.’

‘I, for one, am pretty pleased with this,’ Sarah added. She had been more than happy to hear Bucky had been found and he and Steve were still together. When they arrived back at her apartment, she had given them both a warm hug, and told Bucky she was glad he was okay. As she continued speaking, a wicked glint appeared in her eye. ‘Means I can have that room as my sex dungeon again.’

Steve started choking on his food. ‘Mom!’

‘I’m joking,’ she said. ‘But seriously, I’ll miss you here again. It’s nice to know you’ll still be in the same city as me, though, not overseas getting shot.’

‘I didn’t get shot.’

‘I thought I taught you not to lie, Steven.’

Steve gave her a sheepish look. ‘Who told you?’

‘I figured it out. The nightmares were pretty telling, as were the scars,’ Sarah’s expression softened. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want you to worry.’

‘Oh, honey. I always worry,’ she said, leaning over to give him a brief hug. ‘You should’ve just told me.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. You’re safe, and you’re happy, right?’ she asked, pulling back. ‘Because that’s what matters.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve nodded, finding Bucky’s hand on his thigh and twining their fingers together. ‘Never been better.’

 

* * *

 

_Three months later._

‘I can’t believe this happened to me again,’ Bucky said, holding back a sob, as he hung his head in his hands and leaned into Natasha’s arms.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Natasha said soothingly, rubbing a hand gently up and down his back. ‘You can’t blame yourself for this.’

‘Why not?’ Bucky asked, looking up to the fish tank in front of them to the goldfish floating at the top. ‘It’s my job to look after the fucking things. Steve is gonna kill me.’

‘No, he’s not.’

‘Yes, he is. This is the third fish in five weeks, Nat.’

‘Maybe you should just not have fish?’ she suggested. ‘Honestly, cats and dogs are so much easier than fish.’

‘Steve thinks we need to start small,’ Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘I never settled anywhere long enough to get a cat or a dog, but I’ve always wanted a huge dog, you know?’

‘Mm,’ Natasha nodded. ‘Isn’t your one-year anniversary coming up?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘You could always pull the _first anniversary_ card to get a cat or something. I think Steve would be okay with that.’

‘Sentimental, sappy bastard,’ Bucky muttered. ‘Fuck it, I’m gonna go out and get one without telling him. Not like he’ll make me get rid of it.’

‘I know someone who has a bunch of kittens to give away?’ Natasha said, letting go of Bucky and taking out her phone, scrolling through her Facebook messages to show him pictures. ‘Look at their little tiny toes, Bucky.’

‘Why do I care about their toes?’

‘Are you serious?’ she asked, zooming in on one of the kittens’ feet. ‘Why _wouldn’t_ you?’

Bucky leaned forward to look at her phone. ‘Good point. They’re adorable. Ask your friend if I can have one.’

Natasha grinned. ‘Already did. They said yes.’

 

* * *

 

**_Bucky:_ ** _so i have good news and bad news_

**_Steve:_ ** _hit me with the bad first_

**_Bucky:_ ** _our fish died :(_

**_Steve:_ ** _bucky!! again?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _fish are hard! what do u want me to say? that i'm poisoning their water?_

**_Steve:_ ** _ARE you???_

**_Bucky:_ ** _definitely not! u want the good news?_

**_Steve:_ ** _sure_

**_Bucky:_ ** _the fish is dead so that means our cat won’t drown trying to get it :)_

**_Steve:_ ** _buck we don’t have a cat_

**_Bucky:_ ** _[Picture Attachment] meet apple :)_

**_Steve:_ ** _wait whose cat is that??_

**_Bucky:_ ** _it’s ours! surprise!_

**_Bucky:_ ** _please don’t be mad it’s not apple’s fault :(_

**_Steve:_ ** _why the fuck did you name it apple_

**_Bucky:_ ** _apple pie… freedom… your birthday is the 4th of july… i'm going w a theme_

**_Steve:_ ** _we’re going to be having a serious conversation when i get home_

**_Bucky:_ ** _:o_

**_Steve:_ ** _we are not naming our first child “apple”_

 

* * *

 

_Six months later._

‘Does it bother you?’ Bucky asked, resting his chin on Steve’s chest, and running his finger around in patterns on Steve’s arm, twirling around scars and freckles.

‘Does what bother me?’ Steve looked down to him, as he started tracing his own patterns on the bare skin of Bucky’s back.

‘That I’m… y’know.’

‘Older than Geoffrey Chaucer?’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘I hate how you worded that.’

‘Could’ve said “a survivor of the plague”,’ Steve sighed and paused in his pattern for a moment, before he picked it up again as he continued. ‘I mean, it’s weird, sure. But it’s also weird having all the memories of so many other people who lived through all that as well in _my_ head. It’s just something that’s there, and it’s not something either of us can change.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You do look damn good for someone over eight hundred years old, though. What’s your secret?’

‘A witch cursed me to be stuck with your ass for eternity.’

‘Yeah, but you _asked_ for it.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Bucky muttered.

‘Do you ever regret that?’ Steve asked. ‘Do you ever think it wasn’t worth it? Do you hate that you won’t get to see all the crazy stuff that’s going to come in the future?’

Bucky was quiet as he thought, but eventually came to answer. ‘Yeah, I guess. Everyone I’ve ever met has died, and I miss them, but it got me to you, didn’t it? So in that way, I don’t regret it at all. I used to think it wasn’t worth it, I didn’t want to keep watching someone I loved die over and over, but you always seemed to be my end goal, and that makes it worth it for me.’

‘What about the future, though?’

Bucky laughed and stretched upwards to kiss Steve’s jaw. ‘You’re forgetting how _old_ I am. Imagine how crazy shit like _microwaves_ is to me. Everything I see is weird and futuristic, and I’m damn fucking lucky to have seen and witnessed as much as I have. I’ve seen so much, Steve. _So_ much. The way cities have slowly taken over the green I used to know, new lands being discovered, and the creation of multicultural societies. _Planes_ , Steve. Trains, cars, motorcycles… New things are always being invented and introduced, Steve. It’s been happening since before I was born, and it’ll continue long after I’m gone. So, no. I’m not sad I won’t get to see the future. I’ve _seen_ the future, and I’ve had my fill of new technologies, so I don’t need to see any more.’

Steve smiled and wrapped his other arm around Bucky, pulling him into a tight hug. ‘I love when you talk like that.’

‘Like what?’

Steve shrugged and kissed his head. ‘I don’t know. So… _wisely_.’

‘What can I say? I’m a wise guy.’

‘Yeah, you keep thinking that, pal.’

 

* * *

 

_Nine months later._

‘This is a terrible idea,’ Bucky said, as they pulled up to the small house they had rented for the weekend. ‘We shouldn’t have come.’

‘Why not?’ Steve asked. ‘What do you have against Boston?’

‘Nothing _against_ Boston,’ Bucky said, not bothering to get out of the car. ‘Just… who lives here.’

Steve quirked an eyebrow. ‘You’re doing that thing where you don’t want me to know stuff but forget I know everything anyway.’

‘What?’

‘Dugan lives in Boston. We’re not here to see Dugan. We’re here to be tourists, okay?’ Steve leaned over and pecked Bucky’s cheek. ‘We’re not going to kill Dugan by popping up to visit, I promise.’

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Okay.’

He wasn’t totally convinced they _weren’t_ here to see Dugan, despite what Steve said, but he didn’t break his word. They stuck to doing their tourist things, and didn’t stray once near Dugan’s part of town, to avoid accidentally crossing paths with him.

Bucky was happy with the way things were going, and was glad Steve had suggested going away for a few days. It was nice to be just the two of them for a while, because there was almost always someone else floating around in their apartment, or making plans to come over for dinner, or _something_. They loved their friends, of course, but sometimes they just needed space and time alone.

However, the amount of time other people spent in their apartment had come in handy for this trip, because it turned out Apple, the grey and white ball of fluff they called their cat (they had stuck with the name – Steve decided she suited it) was a little bit of a guard cat, and enjoyed attacking new people when they first met. Apple had known Natasha since they had first got her, so Nat was apartment and cat sitting, and they knew she wouldn’t go home covered in scratches and bite marks.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to see Dugan?’ Steve asked, as they sat down to dinner on their last night in the city. ‘I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to delay our trip a couple of hours to go see him before we leave.’

Bucky shook his head. ‘We’re not going to Dugan’s. He doesn’t need us turning up on his doorstep, me looking like the day he knew me, and you looking like… well. _That_.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Ben was tiny. Like, _blown over in a stiff wind_ tiny. Nat could’ve taken him with her left pinkie toe, I swear. And then _you_ are taller and bigger than _me_ and Dugan would probably die right there on the spot.’

Steve frowned. ‘I know _I_ never knew Dugan, but it’s weird to have all these memories of him anyway, when they aren’t even _mine_.’

‘I know.’

‘I look like him though, don’t I? Ben?’

‘You look like the dude that _ate_ Ben,’ Bucky said, smiling and with no malice in his voice. ‘But yeah, definitely. Just… Ben’s head.’

‘This is so weird,’ Steve muttered, poking at his food. ‘You wanna go to the beach?’

‘The beach?’ Bucky asked. ‘Right now?’

‘Well… maybe later. I’ve always wanted to have a romantic moonlit stroll on a beach,’ Steve shrugged. ‘Now seems like the perfect opportunity.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Bucky nodded. ‘Later.’

 

* * *

 

‘This was a great idea,’ Steve said, tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand, as they walked, barefoot, over the sand.

‘Is it as romantic as you’d hoped?’ Bucky asked, side-eyeing Steve beside him.

‘Even better,’ Steve smiled. ‘Because I’m here with you.’

‘And I’m obviously super romantic.’

‘I think living through eight centuries, all to give up immortality for _me_ is pretty romantic,’ Steve stopped walking and sat on the sand, pulling Bucky down as well. ‘You might not think so, but I do.’

Bucky shrugged. ‘Maybe I was just sick of it all and you seemed like a decent place to finish.’

‘Or it’s because I’m your soulmate,’ Steve grinned.

Bucky had mentioned that like _once_ in a conversation about what happened with Natasha, and Steve hadn’t let him forget it. ‘I suppose that could be another way to put it.’

They were quiet for a little bit, Steve gazing out over the ocean to the stars on the horizon. ‘You know,’ he said quietly. ‘I always thought destiny and soulmates were real. I never thought I’d find mine, though. I used to wish on stars when I was younger, hoping that I would find someone to love, and who loved me. When I went overseas with the army, I thought I was going to die without ever meeting them.’

‘Fate has a way of making things happen, Stevie,’ Bucky murmured. ‘I thought I had found my soulmate in Dmitri, but I was so wrong. I was only ever living to find you.’

Steve turned his gaze to Bucky, head tilted slightly, and eyes maybe a little bit watery. ‘Maybe I was only ever living to be found _by_ you.’

Bucky leaned over to kiss him gently. ‘I love you so much, you know that?’

Steve nodded, resting their foreheads together. ‘I do.’

They stayed like that for a few moments, until Bucky whispered, ‘You wanna go home now?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go home.’

As they got up, and walked back along the beach, Bucky looked out to the ocean and sent a thought into the universe, up to that witch whose name he had long since forgotten. A thank you, and an apology for every time he had ever cursed her for cursing him. He knew she had thought it was a bad idea at the time, but she had helped him anyway.

Maybe she had known what he would need to go through all along, and was trying to spare him the pain. Maybe she had been the instrument of divine intervention to right the wrong that had been done and get him to this point in time.

Either way, she had helped get Bucky here, she had got him to Steve, and for that he would spend the rest of his life thanking her.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [here](http://jjjakesully.tumblr.com) on tumblr! if you think any tags need to be added, please let me know, as well.


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